For Your Sake
by sorceress2
Summary: Daidouji Tomoyo goes to Winchester, England and finds the biggest surprise of her life. E+T. R&R, thank you. FINISHED!!!!
1. The Queen of Masks

For Your Sake

Chapter 1: The Queen of Masks

An exquisitely appointed room held the hush of the dead of winter. The ceiling reached at least two stories, with intricate arches in marble and rigid, precise flowers arranged in an order that nature had surely never intended. The walls were a pale expanse of fine marble, hung with tapestries that depicted hunters and their steeds, an escort of lancers and falconers who followed the party of splendidly dressed courtiers in their idyllic amusements. The small jewel-bezel led clock ticked in its quartz monotony ceaselessly, and the deathly quiet of a lone clock ticking and the peaceful tinkle of the marble maiden's jug pouring water into a seashell shaped basin heightened the feeling of absolute quiet. Half the great room was windows, making half the walls and ceiling, giving an excellent view of a raging winter wind and the ghostly forms of a garden. 

The pale, insubstantial fragrance of the water lilies in a small fountain was soothing, yet none of the lavish beauty and artistic perfection were noticed by a woman, sitting deathly still on a single large armchair, in its forbidding stiffness of carved mahogany and mother-of-pearl. The woman, or girl rather, was dwarfed by the throne-like chair, with a silent, calm composure and mesmerizing, gentle eyes. Those eyes were so very strange, which caused many a stranger to stare. They were large, beautiful eyes, lined with thick, long black lashes. The color was a rarity of rarities, a deep purple with a tint of grey. With her lingered a pale, ethereal presence, like a faerie or nymph. Her long, silky black hair cascaded down in inky waves, a shock of night black framing a pale, perfect face. Being winter, she was dressed casually but with impeccable taste in a cream-colored cashmere sweater, one with a tall neck that brought attention to the girl's swan neck, and dark stonewashed jeans. It was strange that she sat so still, almost like an apparition, one with the most enigmatic, mysterious expression. It was a face that held secrets, and a face that wished to hold them from everyone by virtue of its aloofness and beauty. Sighing softly, the dark haired girl stood, and approached the window. Lifting one hand, she trailed her fingers with their opalescent-lacquered nails over the window casement. The crisp, cold weather outside made everything white and shimmering and dreamlike.

Tomoyo wished that her mother hadn't insisted that she tag along to England on a prolonged business trip. 

'The markets are practically begging for Japanese toys, especially these new electronic ones.' Her mother had said. 'And I think that you need to get away from Japan and Tomoeda for a while.' 

After Sakura-chan and Li-kun had gotten married-and at such a young age, too- Tomoyo had to admit that life had lost some of that brightness that it had once possessed, after Sakura-chan had left for Hong Kong. She truly did wish that Sakura-chan and Li-kun would have a happy life together, though they were still all just nineteen years old. 

So that was how she ended up here, in Winchester in a hauntingly beautiful, mysteriously secluded mansion. She smiled in amusement at the memory of when she had asked the directions to Hiiragizawa-kun's house from a group of four or five young people, just about her age. 

'You want directions to Mr. Hiiragizawa's estate?' One of the girls had asked her skeptically. Tomoyo thought that she looked jealous, but couldn't fathom why.

'No one ever goes there, and no one ever visits that place. People rarely see him, and when they do, he's always in that black limousine of his, traveling to one corner of the world or another.' The boy to her left put in.

'Everyone thinks that he is a recluse at least--'

'And the most good looking and charming one at that.' A pale haired girl interjected with a laugh. 

The redhead boy turned his glare on her. The girl merely shrugged complacently with a grin.

'Anyway,' the redhead continued after he had given Tomoyo quite specific directions, 'Some people think that Mr. Hiiragizawa is some sort of secret agent for the government, or perhaps the American CIA, but rumors are always rampant with him, every time he goes on a trip. Everyone is fascinated with his mysteriousness. What gives you the honor of being the first person in living history to visit him, ever since he returned from one of his longer trips and reopened his estate? If I may ask?'  The redhead said with irresistible charm and a smile. Tomoyo had to laugh in spite of herself.

'I am only an old friend from when he stayed in Japan for a while.' Tomoyo had told them. The blond boy at her left ran his gaze appreciatively over her. 

'And I see why he wants such a beautiful girl to visit him.' he murmured. The redhead hit the blond on the shoulder.

'You really have to excuse my rude, unrefined friend." The redhead said. 

'Don't mind him.' 

Tomoyo smiled and gave them her profound thanks and turned to her taxi, preparing to load her baggage when a long, black stretch limousine with dark-tinted windows pulled up. A manservant in formal, impeccably neat black dress came from the front passenger seat.

'Daidouji-san?" He inquired politely. Giving her a practiced bow, he explained the conveyance. 

'Hiiragizawa-sama sent me to escort you to his estate. He awaits your arrival." 

The manservant then gestured to ask her if the bags next to her indeed were hers, and she nodded slightly in assent. After he quickly put the suitcases in the trunk, he gave her a stiff, formal bow and opened the door for her. She smiled her thanks, and with a last wave to the small group, quickly stepped into the black leather upholstered interior. 

On her way there, she hoped that Hiiragizawa-kun wouldn't mind if she was going to spend the night before traveling to Liverpool to meet her mother because she had some packages to deliver to Mizuki-sensei from Sakura-chan and some other old friends from Tomoeda. This tiny town was also so remote that she would have to travel back in the middle of the night. Tomoyo would have called his number, but that and his address were unlisted and she only knew the name of the town in which he lived.  So how did he know that she had arrived? Well, she might find out when she arrived at the house. Idly, Tomoyo wondered why she had never really gotten to know Hiiragizawa-kun. Of course, he had seemed infatuated with Sakura-chan back in Tomoeda, but he always had seemed so removed from everyone else, so watching, so introverted. Hiiragizawa-kun was half the reincarnation of Clow Reed, so he had his excuses. Tomoyo wondered what he was like now. Probably exactly the same as he had been, she decided, smiling at the memory of the group back at the small town. Hopefully he would overlook her impolite and unannounced visit. Come to think of it, he and Mizuki-sensei were probably still together, too. Tomoyo remembered the two being so blissfully happy together, and sighed wistfully. They had had such a beautiful relationship.

Blinking, Tomoyo suddenly realized that she had already passed the town and all the townhouses, and the greater number of the gated walls that held spacious private residences. Soon there were no more gates or fences, and only silent trees and peaceful, crystalline snow were visible. It was so beautiful, so tranquil here. Wraith-like trees yearned for the sky in their silent skeletons, parodies of their own selves in spring. The pale shimmering snow made everything a quiet snow sculpture, and nothing marred the serene, white silence except for the wind who kissed the treetops in its invisible caress. The twisting roads made her think of a fairy tale, of a beast in his enchanted castle where it was an eternal spring, who hid himself from others. In a way that beast reminded her of Hiiragizawa-kun, hiding himself in plain sight from others. Perhaps there was another person hidden in him, too. Perhaps Mizuki-sensei had caught a glimpse of who he really was. Perhaps. 

After a final curve of the road, the car came to a tall, forbidding wrought iron gate ensconced in an implacable brick wall. A security camera focused its electronic eye on them, and the gates opened. The circular drive curved itself around a tall marble fountain, its falls of water ceased in winter. Even under the snow, Tomoyo could see an intricate landscape show through. So that was what one of the famed English pattern gardens looked like. The car pulled up slowly to the imposing oaken doors, arched at its top, and the doorman handed her out as the great doors were opened for her. Tomoyo hesitated at the door about her luggage, but a butler appeared, took her coat and assured her that they were being brought in. After giving her coat to the doorman, he bowed to her.

'Please follow me, Miss Daidouji. Mr. Hiiragizawa asked for you to await him in the East Solar.' Tomoyo had nodded absently, taking in the forbidding beauty of the house. 

The mansion was magnificent. Mansions did not intimidate her, since she had lived in one all her life, but this one was truly a work of art. Large casement windows flanked the doors like sentries in the foyer, but something this grand had to be called an antechamber. Complete suits of armor requisite with half-moon bladed battle-axes, spiked maces, full length lances bearing long streamers, and great broadswords lined the main hallway leading from the room. The entrance had to be at least three stories tall, with beautifully paneled walls carved in birds of prey and beasts of the forest. Some of the animals had garnet eyes. The great marble staircase divided in the middle of its ascent to balconies lined with tall wooden doors. In fact, if this house were any larger or grander, it would have to be called a palace.

So that was how she ended up here, and she smiled amusedly at the memory of the small group back at the town. Where was Hiiragizawa-kun? Surely this house wasn't that big. Perhaps she should ring for a servant. She had noticed the velvet bell cord hanging unobtrusively by the door. Or perhaps-

"Good morning, Daidouji-san. What a pleasant surprise." The master of the house said in his deep voice. 

Tomoyo turned with a smile, and was shocked at what she saw. She had remembered Eriol to be pale and slim as a young boy, and the well-built, sun-darkened young man with eyes that did not match the youthful face was not very much like the Hiiragizawa-kun that she remembered. Of course, nine years did do drastic things to a person, but he had changed very much. The thick night-black hair was still the same, as were the deep blue eyes. Very dark, polite and dignified. They studied her as he made his bow, and as he bowed over her hand. And goodness, he must have gotten contacts. His glasses were nowhere in sight.

"Good morning, Hiiragizawa-kun. I hope that you did not mind that I came so unexpectedly, but I had some packages and letters for you and Mizuki-sensei, and of course, I had to visit you and catch up with old times." She said brilliantly. 

If she remembered correctly, he could see through near any disguise of character that one donned. Tomoyo did not want him to know about the effect that Sakura had left on her. He made a dismissive gesture, and smiled at her. Just as she was about to look away, she caught a slight flicker of his eye that she would have normally missed. What was going on with Mizuki-sensei, then? Or did he already know about Sakura-chan?

"Why should I berate a girl for visiting me? You are always welcome here, Daidouji-san." 

So, he was still extremely punctilious. He had not said 'friend', because they had not been back in Tomoeda. 

"Thank you so much, Hiiragizawa-kun. How have you been, after all this time?" 

Hiiragizawa-kun led her to the luxuriously velvet-upholstered couch, long and with a tall back. It seemed that he had not tired of black. His turtleneck sweater and slacks were both black; both looked oddly formal on him. He was dressed quite well.

"I have been very well, thank you. I have just returned from Italy, so I am very tanned. I brought back with me boxes of old manuscripts and some souvenirs, too. You?"

 Tomoyo smiled as he mentioned the tone of his skin. He was still the same scholarly Hiiragizawa-kun, no matter how well he looked.

"I am having a very nice time here in England. My mother thought it best that I travel Europe with her before my first semester of college, just so I learn about her business even if I might not join it." Eriol nodded.

"You are welcome here whenever you wish it, Daidouji-san." He said again. "Let's get you settled in your rooms."

"Oh, thank you. You really are too kind." She said graciously. 

Tomoyo had the feeling that Hiiragizawa Eriol was thinking exactly what she was, that both of them sounded like a wind-up box of polite things to say. Well, they did not know each other very well at all. Giving her a hand, he lifted her from the couch effortlessly. Leading her down a long corridor, he made small talk with her, as polite and rehearsed as their conversation back at the East Solar. 

"Here we are, Daidouji-san." Hiiragizawa-kun opened a pair of carved French doors that lead to a spacious suite of rooms that seemed fit for a queen. 

The very size and grandeur was intimidating, and it was furnished with exquisite care. It was all cream and blue and gold, with one of the largest beds that Tomoyo had ever seen, one that needed steps to get onto it. 

Hiiragizawa-kun led her from one room to another.

"This is your boudoir, and this door leads to the bathroom, and this is the closet."

 The bathroom was a startling flood of sterile bright light on marble, and the boudoir was expansive. 

"This is your main room, and that door is your office. There is only one door to your bedroom, from the boudoir, and your boudoir is only accessible from your main room." 

Tomoyo was a bit overwhelmed from all of it.

"You didn't have to go through all this trouble, Hiiragizawa-kun." She said softly. He replied with a charming grin.

"But I did, Daidouji-san. It is my duty to be attentive to beautiful girls." He said rakishly. An irresistibly charming manner it seemed was his greatest weapon around women.

"What a flatterer you are, Hiiragizawa-kun. Don't you know that you shouldn't tease girls? Smitten ones are especially hard to get rid of, especially ones that you have just offered rooms to in your very own house. Shame on you, Hiiragizawa-kun." She retorted archly. Eriol laughed.

"Then I will have to let you alone, Daidouji-san. I will send up my housekeeper so she can help you with your unpacking personally. Her name is Frau Schmidt." He had a perfect German accent. How much did he remember from his past lives?

"And you will meet me for dinner at six-thirty, Daidouji-san?" Eriol asked.

"With you? Of course." Looking down at her with laughing dark eyes, he made his bow and exited the suite chuckling.

Tomoyo smiled warmly at the dignified blond woman, formidably plump and elegant in a spotless grey dress that was more suited to taking a pot of fine Darjeeling with scones than with overseeing a large household, even if that household only had to cater to one person. The grey streaks in Frau Schmidt's bun made her seem even more firmly in control of the household, firmly in charge and as queen of her demesnes of cooking, cleaning, and laundering. Frau Schmidt was just formidable. 

Tomoyo let out a breath as the plump, stately housekeeper let herself out, with a promise to send up a maid to relay to her some refreshments and directions to the dining room. Frau Schmidt also told her to ask the maid to freshen her formals and semi-formals; she feared that there were wrinkles in some of them. The capable woman had the effect of making you do things even if you didn't want to. Tomoyo laughed a bit at the memory. She truly was a bit impressed by the woman; how did Eriol manage to import her from Germany? There was only the slightest hint of a German accent in the housekeeper's impeccable English, impeccable and capable like everything else about her. And why did Eriol ask her to unpack everything, even when she was only staying a day or two? Tomoyo shrugged at that, and went to the bathroom to freshen up. The thought did not linger long.

Giving her best effort to glide through stately halls, Tomoyo incessantly straightened her dress. It was a very beautiful one, in cream silk with a high waist and a slit in the middle of the skirt to display a different, silver-embroidered underskirt. The pale heavy silk had a dull sheen to it, and was undoubtedly expensive. Tomoyo mentally reminded herself to thank her mother for the dress again. Her hair was up in strands of pearls, her only adornment. Why on earth had Eriol wanted her to dress in the most formal dress, as the missive from him, handed to her from the maid said? Tomoyo remembered him asking her specifically, politely to dress formally. The dark, bold slashing words had said that he had a little surprise for her. She had best be ready to leave the house, it had said. The maid would be ready with a cashmere shawl with long fringes at the door. She wondered what the surprise was. The door to the great dining hall was slightly ajar. A soft murmur of voices came from within. So Eriol had guests. Who? 

Walking in, Tomoyo got the biggest surprise of her life.

She could not believe her eyes. A form in pale pink collided into her, and she was surrounded in a tight, cinnamon-scented embrace.

"Tomoyo-chan!" Sakura squealed. "I am so happy to see you!" she said with an exuberant smile.

 Her emerald eyes danced with joy. Syaoran stood more slowly than his wife, and gave her a warm smile. 

"It is very good to see you again, Daidouji-san."

 Tomoyo was in shock. What was Sakura doing here? When she said as much, Sakura answered her brilliantly, vibrant with happiness. Tomoyo thought that she would fall from surprise. How was she going to live through this? She still did not know how to face Sakura.

"Your mother and Eriol-san cooked up a little plot to give you a vacation, so they decided to contact us so we could all get together again, just like it was back in Tomoeda!" Sakura giggled. 

"Oh, Tomoyo-chan, but I am so glad to see you." She said happily. 

Tomoyo rallied her nerves and forced herself to smile.

"So am I, Sakura-chan! You must tell me everything about Hong Kong, and about Li-kun's frightening family." 

Tomoyo smiled, and Sakura laughed at the mock fear that Tomoyo exhibited as she talked about Syaoran's family. Syaoran gave them a wry smile, and Eriol chuckled over the mention of Syaoran's frighteningly formal and rigid family.

"Before you ladies say anything else about monstrous clan members, executioner mothers or the like, may I tell you where Daidouji-san's mother and I have decided to take us all?" Eriol said as Syaoran turned his glare on him. 

Nothing had changed, from back when they were still eleven and watched Eriol tease Syaoran and call him 'cute descendant', and play tricks on he and Sakura, of course with the help of herself. Tomoyo laughed, now that the shock of Sakura-chan and Li-kun were wearing off.

"We await the surprise breathlessly, Hiiragizawa-kun." Tomoyo said dryly.

"We are going to London to watch the famous London Chamber Orchestra since I have heard that Daidouji-san has a taste for Vivaldi and Haydn." Eriol told them. 

Tomoyo clapped her hands in delight. It was both nightmare and dream. She must not seem shaky, or even slightly nervous. She must breathe calmly, and smile, and laugh. Like she was usually. Oh gods, but this was not usual.

"How on earth did my mother and you manage all of this, Hiiragizawa-kun?" Tomoyo asked. 

She was giddy with excitement, and underneath that, fear. She was always good at wearing masks, a thousand masks, a hundred thousand. Everyone wore masks at one time or another, but some wear more, or are better than others. 

She was the queen of masks.

"He cooked this plot up in that red chair of his, and made sure to find ways to embarrass all of us while doing so, Daidouji-san." Syaoran said wryly. 

But everyone smiled at the mention of the large red armchair in which Eriol schemed and plotted, aptly dubbed the Chair of Evil by Nakuru and Spinel.

"Syaoran!" 

Sakura had that condescending tone down perfectly.

"We must be extra nice to Eriol-kun because he went through all this trouble for us. You must be nice to him." Sakura said in her best lecture voice. 

It was the tone that one admonished children with, that the cookie was probably not very clean after the dog had dragged it outside and across the pavement of the driveway. Syaoran laughed.

"I'll bet Hiiragizawa doesn't mind. I think that I amuse him. Look at that smile on his face." 

All eyes turned to Eriol, and he hastily wiped the amused sinister smile off his face.

"I would never do such a thing, Li." He said with much injured dignity. 

"Before you tell me any more untruths, we had better get started to the orchestra before we are late." 

Syaoran retorted with a roll of his eyes. Tomoyo shared a look with Sakura, and they both burst out laughing.

"You wound me, Daidouji-san, and you too, Sakura-san." Eriol said, pseudo-mournfully. "I didn't know that I was such a joke to everyone."

"But we are going to be late, so you may all laugh at my expense in the car." Eriol said with a grin. "We had better hurry." 

Tomoyo was glad that she had at least recovered quickly. She was stumbling in pitch dark, and dawn was a long time coming.

Okay, guys, I just reformatted that, (a special thanks to Alice for reminding me that I am not writing a report, but a fanfic). So, was my first ever fanfic any good? And thank you to Killiko Jun for introducing me to A Cappella. KIT SPOONER ROCKS! ALL HAIL HER HOLINESS KIT SPOONER, QUEEN OF ALL CCS FANFICTION-DOM!!!!!!!! *Maniacal laughter* Sorry, but Ms. Spooner is really really good and I think I had too much sugar. But to make Killiko Jun happy, I changed the peppermint perfume to cinnamon. I like both, but I don't want people to think I am copying. And Ms. Spooner and I have the same taste in perfume! (Try Jo-Ann Fabrics' Peppermint Chamomile Anti-Stress Lotion. Mmmmm!) Really, I'm innocent! Thanx! ^_^ 

P.S. Also know that I know nothing about computers whatsoever. Keep that in mind. 

P.P.S. You will see why I rated it R later, for those who mentioned it. XD 


	2. Like Grecian Art

For Your Sake

Chapter 2: Like Grecian Art

Eriol listened to the music intently.  The chamber orchestra was beautiful, the Four Seasons by Antonio Vivaldi. It was the Spring movement, the first of the four parts. Bright, exuberant music boomed grandly, with the joy of spring and of rebirth from a dead white coffin proclaimed exultantly that spring was the most beautiful season in the year.  It was joyous with life. There was a sprightly glee to it, one shaded by the grand magnificence.

Absentmindedly, he mused on the look that Tomoyo wore when she saw Sakura-san and Li. Was that shock, and ...terror? Of course, Eriol had known ever since he had met Tomoyo that she was in love with Sakura. But did she still? It seemed that she did. It was only logical that Tomoyo would exhibit anxiousness at having to face Sakura after trying to forget her. Eriol vaguely remembered the almost too cheerful laughter and smiles at Sakura's wedding. He had been there too, though he suspected that he was one of few that saw through Tomoyo's smiles for what they really were. Even if anyone did notice the almost too much exuberance of her joy, they would attribute that to Tomoyo's happiness at seeing her best friend married to her soul mate.

No matter, Eriol reflected. Tomoyo was in control of herself now. He knew that she was hoping that the evening did not last too long, not with Sakura. But she looked to be a picture of serenity, of a silently tranquil picture of one of the most beautiful women that most people had probably ever seen. 

He had to admit that Tomoyo was a delicately wrought piece of art. Her inky black hair that normally fell in waves was up in a coiffure so artful that the waves and falls seemed a sort of sculpted happstance, woven with strands of pearls. Cream was definitely her color, with the high-waisted cream silk dress that made her seem a princess, with a crown of pearls. The touches of a faint shimmer around her eyes made the violet depths seem deeper, and made the eyes look larger than they already were. Whenever she looked down, her long dark lashes were a shock of black on pale skin. No, not a princess. She was a queen, a magnificently beautiful one. 

Snapping himself out of his revere, he wondered what was happening to him. Eriol was not one to obsess over girls, nor wax poetic over a lock of hair, however beautiful they might be. Perhaps he was, trying to forget Kaho? That thought nearly made him smile sardonically, but not quite. Kaho had broken up with him, and in that process, shattered his soul. 

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, and leaving it unknowingly unruly, Eriol tried to stop thinking about Kaho, about her. He could not think about her. If he did, he might just turn insane. It was for the best, he told himself. He was too young in appearance, and he knew that that had always distressed her. No. He was not going to think about her. 

Abruptly, Eriol stood and exited the theatre-box. Poor Li. He was all alone in the box now, with Tomoyo and Sakura gone off to do whatever it was that girls did when they went to the ladies' room in flocks like geese. He needed some fresh air. Any air was better than the air in that stuffy booth, he decided. 

"Eriol-kun?" 

Eriol jumped slightly, and devoutly hoped that Sakura-san did not notice.

"What are you doing here?" Sakura asked. She had an innocently worried look on her face.

Turning with a smile, Eriol bowed genteelly to Sakura.

"Just here to get some fresh air, Sakura-san." He said politely.

"The air here isn't very fresh, Eriol-kun. Maybe you would like to try the South Room. You know, the one with the windows and much better circulation." 

Good idea, Sakura-san. Eriol thought darkly. Exactly the place where Kaho had broken up with him. Plastering a smile on his face, he smiled.

"I thank you for your suggestion, Sakura-san. I think that I will go there for a moment. May I escort you back to the threatre-box?" He asked.

Sakura waved away his offer.

"Oh no, Eriol-kun. Don't even bother. Go now, if it makes you feel better. And thank you. Are you sure that you're feeling alright?" Sakura laid a hand on the back of his forehead. Removing her hand gently, he smiled absently.

"Thank you, Sakura-san. I am quite well. Go now, before you miss to much of the Summer Movement." Sakura smiled cheerfully at him, and glided quickly back.

Eriol released the smile almost as once as her back was turned. No, it was not her fault, for she didn't know that. You must never castigate one who acted in ignorance, well meant or not, Clow had said. You must be careful, Eriol. You must never make the mistakes of youth, for I have provided you with the arcana of life. Knowledge. You must never ignore it.

You must, you must, you must. Eriol, you absolutely must listen to all that I have to say. You must do these things for me, because you are the forementioned part of my soul, and I have say because that soul is mine. Not yours. You say that it is half yours, also? You foolish boy. Without my guidance, you would be thrice ignorant. Ignorance is the greatest sin that my reincarnations may suffer. I offer it all to you, and save you from yourself.

Clow was not only a dormant particle somewhere in his soul. Clow Reed sometimes ruled Eriol, and that sovereignty came at heavy price. I told you about Kaho, Clow had taunted. I told you, that you must, you absolutely must listen to my advice. Now you pay for your refusal to do so. Always know that I am the one of us that knows. I always know.

But as always, there was no hate. How could Eriol hate a part of himself, as one with him as the petals of a rose were with the blossom, the plant itself? There was never respite. There was never respite, from the heavy knowledge of everything that there was to know, that the knowledge that knowing everything would bring no joy.

Eriol brooded. 

Here. He was at the South Room now, one of the grandest reception rooms in the music hall, to rival those of Carnegie or Sydney either one. 

It was so strange that the music of a classical age Italian artist should be celebrated in such a Spartan, futuristic place. Such great walls, curving in and out in no order at all, yet the randomness hinted at the skilled knowledge of geometry, trigonometry. It seemed a future's moonscape, great windows that curved and tilted to show a shimmering vista of snow and the far-off lights of London. The ceilings soared to great heights, perhaps five stories, and the effect of chrome, glass, and unadorned, palely smooth stone were breathtaking.

The stark effects made the great room beautiful in form, not in ornamentation, but ornamentation would have ridiculed the architecture anyway. It was all so very beautiful to make the heart ache, and Eriol infinitely preferred such beauty of the senses to happiness, for happiness was so very short lived and beauty, if it was truly beautiful, would last forever. And there was Tomoyo, a beauty with the same grace and insinuating agelessness as Grecian art in the lifeless, geometric hall of abstract ideas. The room and she truly suited each other.

"Daidouji-san." 

There was nothing for a moment, but then her lovely soprano came from a form as still as a marble nymph, and the great room vibrated with the richness of her voice. Her voice vibrated in him too, and was so beautiful he thought that he had been touched by it. It was the voice of an angel, so lovely as it was that it made him desperate to save it for the future so that they might hear the voice of an angel, too.

"Yes, Hiiragizawa-kun?" 

The consonants and vowels were liquid, like crystal chimes hung in the wind, like silver, precise music to convey meaning.

"You should go back. I think that they are almost done with the Summer Movement by now."

Tomoyo looked out the window still, where she had been standing silently, and the hall accepted her as part of its symmetrical beauty and silence.

"I do not want to hear Summer. I will wait until it is time for Winter. You go back, Hiiragizawa-kun. I do not want you to miss Summer."

There was no animation in Tomoyo, no sign of life at all despite the words and slight movements of the stance.

But then, Eriol realized, both her words and herself were too beautiful to be alive. She was a Venus de Milo, beautiful in her momentary immortality, a perfection of form and grace, movements suspended in marble to be captured forever.

"Please come with me, Daidouji-san. You must accustom yourself to Sakura-san or you will never forget. You cannot deceive yourself that by avoiding her in small moments, that slowly your heart will fade in its love. It does not work that way. You must distract yourself from it."

Eriol thought for a moment after his harangue that she was still lifeless, bloodless, without warmth.

But then she came to life.

A set of deep, brilliantly violet eyes settled on him, flickering with emotion before she quenched the internal flame, and she was almost lifeless as before.

"You do not know that, Hiiragizawa-kun."  

And that is when he saw she was angry. There was a steely undertone in the silk of the soprano. Her bosom heaved slightly in anger.

"Do you presume so much always? No, do not answer that. But let me tell you something, Hiiragizawa-kun. I am now in a foul disposition, and you are the cause of it. Please do not try to judge and advise in ignorance. Go! I do not want to see you." 

 "Clow always told me not to do that, you know." 

Tomoyo flashed him an irritated and precursory glance, and resumed her lifeless study of her panoramic view. But she said nothing.

"He has told me a lot of things. He told me that everyday language, what we think of as clichés, had meaning once. They actually meant something. It wasn't worn out like language is today. "

"Touching." Tomoyo said sarcastically.

"He told me so many things, that he always knew better than I, and it was true. He knew before I did that Kaho would leave me, and he warned me about it."

There was a pause.

"I'm so sorry, Hiira---"

"Don't." Eriol said quietly. 

"There is nothing that anyone can say to alleviate this, even if the words held any more meaning." 

Tomoyo held a slightly rueful look. What he said was true. All words, phrases, were worn out. Overused. Abused. Beaten and exploited. Hello. How are you. It is so great to see you. And how are you. Oh, everything is wonderful. There was really no way to express heartfelt emotion anymore. They had all been exhausted, used by commercials and ads and mediocre writers who hoped to become less sublunary by using such succinct phrases and words, but the only effect was that these words died, faded, wore out. And became clichés.

"He always knows more that me. And the one thing that I know is to never judge in ignorance." Eriol finished quietly.

Tomoyo looked down at him. Eriol didn't know how she was looking down at him, for he was nearly a foot taller, and considerably larger in size. She looked down at him nevertheless, and suddenly her eyes filled with sympathy and compassion, and her lips curved slightly to give the tender half-smile filled with such sadness yet peace and serenity, like the Madonna of La Pieta and she suddenly she had the most enigmatic expression, as mysteriously enigmatic and enticing as the Mona Lisa herself.

When she spoke again, her voice was gentle and kind, with the sort of understanding of a comrade-at-arms, and she spoke to him like a child.

"Sometimes, Hiiragizawa-kun, there are things in this world that we cannot change, that we are fated to live with for the rest of our lives. If you cannot change it, then you must live with the difficult situation as best as you can. But I suppose that you know that, under the pseudo-tutelage of Clow Reed." 

She smiled for a moment, a luminous smile.

"Let us go back now, Hiiragizawa-kun. I think that the Summer may be over, but we might still be able to reach Fall before the Winter comes."

Yeah, yeah. I know what you're all saying. GAG ME!! WHAT WAS THAT SICKENING WAVE OF ANGST? WE THINK THAT A FLOGGING IS IN DEBATE!

Well sorry guys, but when it comes to angst I just can't resist. It is fun to write, but for the poor reader, it can give you slight axe-murderer tendencies. The next one will be quite amusing, if that is any consolation. I will attempt to update soon. Thanks!


	3. Crimson Wave

For Your Sake

Chapter 3: Crimson Wave

Eriol sat back for a moment to recall the Winter Movement of last night's Four Seasons. It was beautiful, so inexpressibly beautiful that the very word, beautiful was only a pale shadow of the real tangible sounds created by the hands of man. Was it even possible, even? Man, that weak race governed by greed and a strange thing, a strange mysterious thing they killed and betrayed for, money? It was. He remembered the violent orderliness that characterized the Winter Movement, an orderly chaos, the dark and bleak violins singing their crystalline white beauty, but that singing conveyed the desolation, the utter desolation of the season of death.

Late morning sunshine streamed into a great room filled with art. It came in every form, in the pale marble of Greek statues, to the stiff golden, inhuman images of the Byzantine ikons [yes, that is how it is spelled], the images of the Madonna and Christ, to the flowing robes of Renaissance gods and goddesses stilled in their world of sun-filled oil and canvas, of flowers and fields and oceans and the perfection of human form. Then there were sleek shapes, silver and bronze and stone, that did not represent images, but ideas. The birds of Brancusi graced a gothic table, not even a representation of a bird, but only of flight and movement. It had taken Eriol considerable effort to procure that. He had a sort of reverence for Brancusi, but had a love for art in general. And here, in the great room, where it was tradition to receive guests, he had let his taste in art rule. But his favorite part of the Great Room was this secluded alcove, with a tremendous window and his favorite pieces of art, a Bird of Brancusi, a lesser known, early work of Botticelli that was of his trademark, an angel, and a representation of some Egyptian goddess, Isis with her cows horns in black stone. 

"Well Hiiragizawa, what do you think my wife and the lovely Daidouji-san are up to? We agreed to meet in this art museum a half hour past. I hope they didn't get lost." Li said in his usual noncommittal voice. 

Eriol turned from the window with a sarcastic smile.

"Don't worry, Li, they'll be fine. I'm sure they have enough wits to navigate a house."

"I don't think that you're choice of words fits this _house_, as you call it. A palace would be better."

He chuckled.

"Does this house intimidate you, Li?"

"Like hell it does, Hiiragizawa." Li studied him for a moment.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" 

"What do you ever mean?" Li rolled his eyes with no little amusement.

"I mean, the Clow, er Sakura Cards are captured, changed, and sealed, and the Guardians are all put back to their sleep, but you still enjoy created a bit of mayhem when it suits you. Now do I not know you well?" Eriol laughed outright.

"In case you were worrying, Cute Descendant, I haven't changed. But what am I to do, without you and Sakura-san to torment?" Eriol put his hands to his face in an effeminate mock distress.

Li opened his mouth with a wry look on his face, before the door opened not very gently with a Tomoyo and a Sakura entering. They did not look happy.

"I cannot believe I have my courses Sakura-chan! Again! They were not supposed to come for weeks yet! How am I to--" Tomoyo closed her mouth with a snap. Eriol bowed politely. Tomoyo's cheeks colored to sunset proportions, and she took on a look of scarlet mortification.

"Good morning, Sakura-san, Daidouji-san. How are you today?" What on earth was Tomoyo talking about? What were courses?

Sakura gave him a positively poisonous look. Tomoyo looked panicked, stricken, embarrassed, and murderous all in one. Li looked a bit nervous, too. Between wide-eyed glances at Sakura and Tomoyo alternating, he spared a glare for Eriol in between. What was he so upset about?

"Eriol-kun!" Sakura exclaimed.

"Yes, Sakura-san?"

"I don't believe you! How can you be so inconsiderate as to ask Tomoyo of how she is today, when you well know already!" Sakura gave him a warning look, and Eriol was reminded of a mother bear protecting her cub. Sakura then glanced suspiciously at Syaoran, as if they were plotting something together. Li nudged him in the ribs, with a semi-frantic glance. Eriol had no idea what that was about, either. What was Sakura talking about?

"Hiiragizawa is very sorry, isn't he?" Li gave him a sidelong stare. Eriol returned the stare, and when he didn't say anything, Li kicked him. Yes, he actually kicked him! Continuing, Syaoran smiled politely down at Tomoyo and Sakura both.

"I am very sure that Daidouji-san needs to return to her room. May I escort you? Or would you like to be accompanied by Sakura?" Li was practically kissing Tomoyo's feet, while Sakura was standing a bit to the side, nodding and beaming alternately in an approving manner. What in the name of damnation was going on?

"But as I said, Hiiragizawa is extremely sorry. He merely wasn't thinking for a moment, weren't you, Hiiragizawa?" Eriol did not know what to say. 

"Weren't you?" Li hissed. 

"Oh, uh, I am so extremely sorry, Daidouji-san, Sakura-san. Please accept my abject apologies." He smiled in a humble manner. He hoped that it would suffice.

"I suppose you are, Eriol-kun. Thank you so very much for your consideration. But now I need to borrow a car. Is there a drugstore in that town that we passed the first time we were here?" Sakura asked airily. What on earth?

"Oh, of course. I will have someone meet you out front immediately." Eriol still hadn't the slightest idea of what was happening.

It turned out that Sakura went back to Tomoyo's room with her, and Li was left smiling ingratiatingly at Tomoyo and Sakura both. On their way out, Li hastened to add that Eriol-kun really wasn't that mean, he merely was tired from the card games of last night. Damn Li. 

Li followed the two to the door, smiling idiotically and babbling about Eriol's own idiocy, and closed the door. Li was still apologizing profusely for Eriol's own denseness when the door was closing.

As soon as the great door was closed, Li turned with a positively murderous glare.

"What the hell was that, Hiiragizawa?" Oh gods, here they go again.

"What was what?"

"Don't play that game with me, Hiiragizawa. You know how women get when it's that time. It's like being thrown to the lions. I should know. I had four sisters." Li stopped his lecture for a moment to give another baleful of glares. Thrown to the lions?

"You had better try and make it up to Daidouji-san. What one earth possessed you? My advice is to offer hot drinks, soup, and aspirin, and always say that it was your fault. Gods, you probably ranged both those women against both of us."

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Hiiragizawa?" There really was something that he was missing, Eriol decided. Unless everyone here was merely insane.

"Reality check, Li, but I really haven't any idea what you or Daidouji-san, or Sakura-san were talking about." Li snorted derisively. He collapsed in a tall couch, seemingly exhausted with acting the pet lapdog of Tomoyo and Sakura. He covered his eyes.

"Being around women and Hiiragizawa is way too stressful." Li muttered. Then louder,

"You don't amuse me, Hiiragizawa. Not at all."

"No, really. I have no idea what any of you were talking about."

"Give it up, Hiiragizawa."

"But, seriously, I don't know what you are talking about."

"Seriously, you really should give it up."

"Li, I'm not joking. I have no idea of what any of that was."

Li adventured far enough to uncover one eye. Then he closed it again.

"Gods, I think you're actually serious."

"Of course I'm serious!"

"Oh, hell."

"What?" 

"What? Really?"

Li was trying none too successfully to choke down hysterical laughter.

"Would you please enlighten me to what is so amusing?"

Li managed to smother his laughter for a moment.

"Ever heard them call it the crimson wave, Hiiragizawa?"  
  


"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Li laughed again.

"I really don't believe this. The all knowing Clow Reed doesn't know something that puts hornets down a woman's dress." Li continued.

"Get ready for this, Cute Ancestor. They call it surfing the wave. The red tide is in. Aunt Rose is visiting. Their courses? Come on, Hiiragizawa. You ought to know that one. Weren't you listening?" Li chuckled 

again.

"Is that what all this is about? Courses?"

"Yes, you dolt! Never mention them to women."

"What are courses?" Li stared. And stared. And then stared. 

"Do you mean to say," He asked weakly, "That you don't know what courses are after all this time? Gods, help our poor brother in need." Li shook his head with disbelief, and mock sympathy. He put a hand to his heart, and lowered his head piously.

"Gods, let us pray for this poor, poor soul in the depths of ignorance, that we may cure him of this affliction and--"

"Would you quit that? Just tell me what courses are."

"Off course, Hiiragizawa. I hope that I have helped you gain some knowledge of the world." Li said dolorously, in jest. Eriol could tell that he was having great fun with this.

"Just tell me what they are."

"What females are talking about when they refer to courses, would be the thing clinically called the menstrual cycle." Li exaggeratingly enunciated the last two words. 

"Oops."

"Oops is damn right, Hiiragizawa." Li said laughingly.

Eriol muttered the foulest expletive that he knew. And for good measure, he added several more just to get his point across. Lifting his eyes, he glared at Li.

"Where in damnation did you get all those stupid euphemisms, Li?"

"I call the source my sisters and Sakura, Hiiragizawa."

"Oh."

"You have my sympathies, Ancestor."

"Shut up."

"Okay. Touchy today, aren't we?"

"How the hell did I fail to notice?"

"You are particularly dense regarding the opposite sex, Ancestor. Congratulations. Now you get to worship Daidouji-san until you get back into her good graces, which would then in turn get you back into Sakura's good graces. Let me tell you a little something about women, Hiiragizawa. They band together like a nest of hornets, and are about as safe as one. Or a pride of lionesses. And they can get as violent as the Amazons ever were. Good luck."

Eriol stared. He felt somewhat mortified at that prospect, and at his monumental blunder. Oops. Oops was right.

Mwahahahahaha!!!!!! Yeeeessssss! I have finished another part!!!! Again!!!!!

Ahem. Excuse me. But I am proud at my spectacular achievement. Its extremely wonderful and I feel just peachy. Did you like my euphemisms for courses? I do. So don't even nag at me for their idiocy. I'm not sure when I'll be rolling out another one, but I don't know when I will have a chance to do it. PLEASE R&R. Thanx.

Extra Notes:

1. Botticelli was an Italian painter during the Renaissance, he painted angels for the chapels of the Catholic Church, and some, ahem, more risqué things. Many of his works were destroyed when the great reformer Savonarola persuaded him to burn his own works.

2. Brancusi was a modern sculptor who did many birds, that represented motion and modes of movement, rather than the bird itself. He lived around 1910.

3. An ikon is an image of Madonna and Christ on thin wooden planks of wood, in gold paint and jewels. They were painted during the 10th through 15th centuries, mostly by monks in the Slavic areas, in Russia, and all the 'stans, like Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. (Spelling?)


	4. A Boulangerie of Bordeaux

For Your Sake

Chapter 4: A Boulangerie of Bordeaux

Tomoyo stared back into the midnight blue depths of Eriol's eyes. Was he actually serious? After his cruel jest at her condition she was not sure that she wanted to go anywhere with him. But Sakura had said that men were particularly dense regarding such things, so allowances had to be made. No, she was never going to speak with Eriol again. How could he, albeit male, still be so stupid? No, she had to forgive him. Males were all beyond reproach. At least he could have done it sooner. He had made that cruel jest over a week ago, and she thought that if he had waited any longer there might be no forgiveness. But later was better than never, Sakura-chan had said. Tomoyo smiled resignedly. Always Sakura-chan. She would forgive him. Because Sakura-chan had asked her to.

"I thank you for your offer, Hiiragizawa-kun. I do think that I will accept your apology. Where were you 

thinking of going?" 

Eriol's handsome face look much relieved. He looked appropriately sorry.

"Well, Daidouji-san, I was thinking of a stroll in a park. The one in the back of my estate. I had someone called in to clear the paths. It is very sunny today. We shouldn't waste this short lapse of good weather, shouldn't we?"

Tomoyo managed to smile. 

"What a lovely idea, Hiiragizawa-kun. Please come in. wait just a moment, and let me get ready. And thank you for your lovely offer." She smiled again, and it came a bit easier. That aspirin must be taking effect by now. 

Walking into her boudoir, Tomoyo decided on warmth, because she was so delicate to the cold. She put on a dark purple, almost black coat and a pale cream scarf; the soft pashmina fabric was extremely warm. Black leather gloves that had been treated until they were soft as the scarf completed the winter ensemble. She made sure to put on moisturizer and lip balm. Why on earth did Eriol insist on going out? 

Eriol stood quickly, turning with almost fluid grace from a tall window, the sunshine sparkling through the panes. He smiled warmly down at her, his midnight blue eyes somehow untouched by the smile. 

"Shall we, Daidouji-san?"

"Lets." Tomoyo giggled as he flourished an imaginary cloak and made an elegant bow at her, clicking his heels military style. Then he offered her is arm gallantly. They walked out together.

"It is very beautiful here in your garden. Do you like them very much?" Tomoyo questioned. Eriol smiled fondly at the gardens and trees.

"Yes, very much, Daidouji-san. I used to love the gardens in my childhood. It was where I could be alone with nature, and get away from everyone for a while. There were some times when it was the only way out. Do you understand what I mean?"

Tomoyo nodded with empathy. She knew exactly what he meant. She had liked to go to the park, and just sit there and think of things. It helped her to clear her thoughts to just get away from the incessant maids and manservants and people in general.

Eriol had such beautiful gardens, each one different and what she guessed was done in a different way. Even in the snow, they were beautiful. A snowscape. The wind was more gentle today, as she and Eriol walked on in silence, suffusing themselves with the soft, glittering white. Tomoyo was glad that there was a break from the gray monotony that characterized most of winter, of the steely sky that was relentless in its death. The trees stretched in agonized bleak, dark branches, but even they were adorned with shimmering white.

"I want to ask you something, Daidouji-san." Eriol said seriously. "Well, two rather. Is that alright with you?" Tomoyo smiled at his uncertainty, so unlike how he normally was, so poised and certain with an aura of power, physically and otherwise, that was kept under careful restraint when he was around people. But it was still there, barely perceptible.

"Of course you may ask me something. Ask away."

"Do you really feel alright, Daidouji-san? I am worried about you. You seem paler than usual." He was worried, she reflected absently. She could see it.

"I am, Hiiragizawa-kun. It's just been a bit of a problem for me, that's all." Tomoyo saw that her reassurances did not change anything in his expression.

"But what kind of problem is it? I hate to pry, but I can feel your aura and it is weakened, as when people are fading from life. It is very worrying." He said quietly. Tomoyo looked at him in surprise. She had a weakened aura? Then she knew.

"I think that I know why that is so, Hiiragizawa-kun. Would you like me to tell you?" Eriol nodded quietly. Tomoyo normally did not like to tell people about her condition, but she somehow knew that Eriol would likely monitor her magically or otherwise until he was sure that she was safe. He was just that sort of chivalrous person. Most of the time.

"When I first, um, started to have my courses I noticed that I was loosing too much blood. So I went to a doctor, and he told me that I have DUB, or Dysfunctional Uterine Bleeding. It is somewhat of a serious condition, but its long-term effects are markedly unpleasant." Tomoyo saw that Eriol looked embarrassed at his own lack of understanding. Tomoyo continued.

"It will not kill you, but it makes you constantly tired, and very sensitive to cold, and sometimes, without warning, you can faint if you are already tired and stand up or get up suddenly. I have had a lot of practice with keeping consciousness. And in the long term, it will give you osteoporosis and you may die from a fractured bone then, because it will be hard to heal because you have lost so much iron and calcium from your blood." Tomoyo looked away for a moment. She was suddenly lost in memories of standing up in class, and suddenly swaying because she could hardly see from the blur of vision that people get before loosing consciousness, or feeling as though she would fall from fatigue. Eriol looked at her.

"I think that the reason that you feel that I have a weakened aura is because I am not very deep into consciousness. I think that many times, I hover on the edge."

"I am so sorry, Daidouji-san." Eriol said quietly. There was a honesty in his voice, and suddenly he enveloped her in a tight hug. Understanding flowed from him. Tomoyo smiled at him. 

"You are not at fault, Hiiragizawa-kun. It was only a chance in genetics, and that is no one's fault." She told him. They walked on.

"You must tell me more of yourself, Hiiragizawa-kun. I have not seen you for so long, and it seems that people grow ever farther apart these days. What have you been up to?"

His breathtakingly beautiful face darkened for a moment, then assumed its normal mildness. The blue eyes looked restless, never staying on the same thing for long, and there was almost a tenseness in him that hinted that he was never at his ease completely.

"I have done little since I left Japan, Daidouji-san. Mostly, I have traveled to Europe, Asia, and other places. I have developed a fondness for Italy and the Mediterranean, for their sunshine and joy and groves of olive trees. I have a summer home a France, near Bordeaux where there are beautiful parks." Tomoyo interrupted him suddenly.

"Oh, tell me about France, and Italy." Eriol smiled down at her.

"France is beautiful, a beautiful country with a beautiful language. It is one of my favorite, I think. They have wonderful food, and everyday you can see chefs and bakers preparing their delicacies. After school at three o'clock, all the schoolchildren in their Catholic uniforms come out of school in groups, and their teachers sometimes take them to the park, and they all play there and ask passerby questions or greet them randomly. They called me Monsieur Hiiragizawa, because I was at the park often, once a week by the fountain of Louis Phillipe. They would climb me and search in my pockets for bonbons that I bought for them. It is sunny so much of the time, and I used to go to the beach at Calais, or Nice and just sit there as listen to the people and the sea at the oceanfront brasseries. Afterwards, I would go to Paris and see the art museums, the classical pictures. I went to Versailles, too. It is the most beautiful palace I have ever seen."

Tomoyo was suddenly struck that Eriol liked children very much. She wondered if, perhaps Clow had ever liked children, or was it just a part of Eriol himself? Where did Clow end and Eriol begin? Perhaps they were both so intertwined with each other that the union was seamless, that both mingled with each other.

His normally controlled face was absent now, eyes seeing the playing French schoolchildren and the parks with past Bourbon monarchs and the seashore of Calais and the neon-lit streets of Paris. He seemed as if he was almost watching a film of himself in all those faraway places, experiencing those people, all so alive but somehow he himself never belonging to that life. He watched life pass, but he was the spectator, not the participator. His life was one of sun-filled afternoons filled with endless possibilities, with those possibilities slipping away as the hours pass, and of bright mornings in libraries and old places that had seen only as much as he, and of lonely nights at symphonies, holding himself aloof from giggling girls and women who would turn to admire him in his impeccable formal dress as he would walk down the street, perhaps stopping by a boulangerie or café, always alone in his joyless joy of the things that made other alive. But not him. Never him. It was heartbreaking, but he never noticed. Tomoyo suddenly felt a surge of affection for him, who would hold himself from life.

"And Italy of course, was wonderful." He said suddenly, snapping himself out of his fond remembrances. He started to reminisce again. 

"I had a villa near Florence, and I remember that I had gone there directly after Barcelona, in Spain. The head housemistress had lined up all of the servants in a row to greet me, and they were more like family rather than servants. They even tried to set me up with their daughters, all beautiful with idyllic grace and Italian accents." 

Eriol smiled in remembrance.

"I would travel to Tuscany, where I had another villa, this one small and by a grove of olives. It was always sunny, and I would then go to Rome to hear the operas, La Traviata and La Inamorata. I went to see the old Roman buildings, and tasted the finest wines there, and go to the sea to buy sea urchins. After that, they were my favorite food, and my housemistress there would send people to buy them for me. The Italians are a warm, friendly people. They taught me how to make spaghetti, too. I met some young men my age in Venice, and they were the society of Italy. A few of them were even de Medici's. Their palaces on the waterfronts were beautiful, and sometimes after dark I would just walk the sidewalks of the canals and over the bridges. Then my fine Italian friends would throw masquerade balls, where they forced me to wear those silly Venetian tights and clothes from the Renaissance. I wanted to cringe every time I saw a woman in those parties. They had the largest banquets held in my honor, and I remember them promising their sisters to me. It was difficult to decline, but I managed to pull it off." Tomoyo had to laugh. Even Clow's handsome reincarnation could not manage to completely avoid clingy women, and had to suffer them seeing him in tights on top of that. Her eyes danced and sparkled.

"I want to go to those places someday, Hiiragizawa-kun. I want to go see them someday." Tomoyo said happily, lulled like a child from Eriol's reminiscences of the canals of Venice and the streets of Paris. They seemed so different that it was almost like a dream. Eriol's eyes focused on her.

"I can take you, Daidouji-san." Tomoyo stared at him in amazement. Was he joking?

"Seriously, Daidouji-san. I am not joking. I can take you to Europe, and anywhere that you want. I can show you off to my friends in Venice if they try to stuff me into another one of those costumes. You can distract them with your feminine wiles as I dispose of their costumes. And you will look magnificent as a Renaissance noblewoman, and you may help me keep all those sisters away." This was too much. Tomoyo laughed delightedly, with such exuberance that even Eriol chuckled. She hugged him. He looked surprised for a moment, and then returned the embrace.

"I am so happy that you are my friend, Hiiragizawa-kun."

"Then I'm glad, Daidouji-san." He said affectionately. Tomoyo pulled him back to walking down the path. She had never seen him act affectionate before, and he had such fond, warm blue eyes when he was. They were almost like a child's, bright with secret imaginings that would not die despite their fantastical nature, fantasies that had no hold on reality, only a hold on their young minds. She was suffused with a giddy happiness and childish pleasure at the thought of Europe.

Tomoyo could imagine Eriol in Italy very well, too. She could just see the olive-complexioned girls giggle behind Renaissance fans, in their Renaissance headdresses and dresses in heavy velvet. She could imagine him wandering the canals and watching the water under the bridges, staring into the water that had seen so many gondolas for so many years. She could imagine him in Tuscany, walking among groves and groves of olives, the bright Mediterranean sun never faltering for even one day. She wanted to see those things, too. 

Walking on, she could tell that Eriol was still looking at her. Tomoyo glanced up at him questioningly, and he seemed to search for the right words.

"And another thing that I have wanted to ask you, Daidouji-san."

Tomoyo nodded.

"Ask anything you want." He studied her for a moment.

"About Sakura-san." Tomoyo pointedly did not look at him. She couldn't bear to bring herself to look at him, when he knew. She hated to have people know, and to the extent of her knowledge, only her mother and Eriol knew the truth about her so-called best friend. She did not want him to know. It gave her a feel of helplessness, of such impotency because it was in the minds of others. So many times, she could manipulate people, young men in particular like marionettes, because she knew how one worked. She had seen it so often in herself, how Sakura could change her with a smile. And she would curse herself for it, but the next time, only be drawn helplessly as a fish of the sea would be drawn helplessly by eons and their own genes to return to the place of their birth, and die. And like the fish of the sea, she knew her imminent doom, too, that unchangeable compelling that could never be defeated as long as love existed. So she watched herself, and saw how to control others, subtly so that they would never notice, but would always invariably work.

"What is it?" She asked in a faint voice. She could not seem to control herself at that moment. What was wrong with her?

"I am worried about that, too, Daidouji-san. Are you sure that you are alright with all of this? I can cancel the rest of the plans that your mother and I, with Sakura-san and Li made if you want. I will back up any excuse that you have, if that is what you wish." He did not look at her. Very carefully, Tomoyo shook her head. She had to control herself. She had to!

"I am all right, Hiiragizawa-kun. Don't worry about me." She smiled as best she could. Meaning, it felt short of a real smile. Sometimes, it was just too tiring to wear a façade for too long. But she had to. Eriol did not seem to believe her, but luckily, for him and for her, he did not press his point. Perhaps he had recognized that fragile composure balanced on a blade's edge that Tomoyo possessed now. He had better. Eriol began to speak again.

"I think that you are a very brave person, Daidouji-san." 

"Why do you think that?"

"Life has not been kind to you, but you have done very well in any case. You are in a difficult situation, but you are doing the best that you can."

"Thank you, Hiiragizawa-kun." Eriol waved his hand absently.

It was so strange, sometimes, when she realized that other people would look upon her life as tragic, stark, so very heart wrenching. Or brave, like Eriol did. But not to her. It was as if she was outside her own body, watching herself do the things that she did, watching herself with a separate emotionlessness, a separate mind and peace. Of course she would cry and she would feel as if she were breaking, oh breaking to a thousand shreds, but after the pain was gone, she was herself again, her true self apart from the self that felt emotions. And she watched herself, always, the spectator to a tragedy of her own life. But it did not make her sad, because she only watched. No, never did she actually be in her own self, where she felt things. And even in the moments of grief, she would only watch and think that she should cry faster so her mother would not see the red eyes, the swollen face. Even in that exquisite pain, she would only think of if her concealer would work well enough, a completely separate thought from the grief. She was only a caretaker, not really herself.

"But let me tell you something, Daidouji-san. You think that knowing the full extent of your situation is the best, but I know for a fact that sometimes ignorance is the best." He seemed to be seeing something faraway again; something so different from where he was now, that it seemed a fantasy.

And Tomoyo suddenly felt as if his life were a fairy story, a tragic fairy story with no happily ever after. But there was a sort of anguished beauty about it, a heartbreaking grace and beauty that refused to bend way to the anguish. She suddenly had an urge to smile, to smile not in a joy but in a beautiful sadness, the poignant whimsicality of it all. She could very well see him not even noticing what others would think of his life, only in the rare occasion when someone told him, and only would he then see the desperate and terrifying sadness, but then only set it aside and go on as he always had. As Clow, and as himself. Because he was content that way, because it was the way that he had always lived. And it occurred to her that he was like herself, too, not valuing happiness and joy and liveliness in the world, but something so much less ephemeral, true beauty.

"Do you remember when the World Trade Centers collapsed?" Tomoyo remembered that terrorist incident all too well.

"Yes."

"I knew." There was an undercurrent of anguish in the quiet somberness of his voice, but that anguish was so painful that it seemed so much more pronounced. His voice was deep, deep and seemingly part of the winter around them.

"I knew, Daidouji-san. About two days before it was going to happen. And do you know what I did? I did nothing because Clow would not let me do anything. He told me that no one would believe me anyway, and he was right. He told me that so many people were to die, and I could not do anything. He was right again. He is always right, and he always forces me to know. Now do you not think that ignorance is much more preferable than enlightenment in my case?" His tone was somber and melancholy, but it had the quietness of one who had long come to terms with his situation. At that moment, Tomoyo knew, to a better extent, that ignorance was bliss. They all said it. So she did too.

"Ignorance is bliss." Eriol nodded. 

"It is." There was silence for a moment.

"And all I could do was to watch the towers crumble to the earth as if they were a puppet with their strings cut. All I could do was watch."

His voice was heavy with a shadowed sorrow. It was as if every one of those people, those innocent people ignorant of their fate by fire, or by jumping from the hundredth story of a building, or being crushed under one hundred and ten stories of concrete and steel, wrought by man's hands and genius, and destroyed by man's hands and genius. He seemed to be looking at nothing. His dark hair was ruffled by a strong breeze, stark black against white. It was unruly now, but he did not seem to notice. Then, suddenly, he blinked and that facet of him was gone before she could grasp it. Eriol shed his façade quicker than lightning. He smiled, and motioned to her jovially. His tone was a complete polar opposite of itself before, bright and cheerful.

"This is my koi pond, with almost a hundred fish. I know that its not much in winter, but I like it, don't you?" Tomoyo nodded emphatically, an attempt to wash away the sadness of the moments before.

"It is very beautiful, but do you--" Her last words were cut off by a huge shriek of wind. In their conversation, Eriol and Tomoyo had not noticed a huge gust of wind had pushed storm clouds from the north. She could hear the distant thunder to the horizon, and mentally shuddered. Thunder snow. It was the worst sort of winter storm possible. Just wonderful. Eriol looked to the origin of the thunder for a moment, a violent, gray slashed horizon, and seemed to be calculating if they could make it back to the manor. Apparently they couldn't.

"Well Daidouji-san, would you like to take a small hike to my poolhouse in the back of the property? We can probably make it just in time, before the storm strikes." 

Tomoyo nodded quickly. She was not about to get stuck in the middle of a winter storm. And she did not like the frigid cold.

Eriol stepped quickly, breaking a small path for her. At least the trees here prevented the snow on the ground from being too thick. This was not going quickly enough for her. So she waded on through the snow, hoping that the winter storm did not catch up to them.

At long last, too long, they were in sight of a small house, almost tiny compared to the large Reed manor, not very large at all. But what attracted Tomoyo to it was that it seemed to come right out of a science fiction book, with curves and angles all coming together from a panoply to a sort of ordered chaos of form and lines. It was pale cream and white, pristine in the crisp snow with the largest windows on such a house that she had ever seen. Apparently Eriol liked his windows. It still seemed so very far away, only a tiny dot in the unforgiving landscape. How long was it going to take? She could hear the thunder approach, and foreboded the storm until she heard a crack and felt such freezing coldness. Had she merely thought that the air was cold? Then there was nothing but blackness. 

Mwahahahaha!!!!! Erhem. How is that for suspense? I know that I am a bit evil, *devils horns sprout out of head* but it was fun. Now guys, be nice. There is no reason for those vile, vile expletives that you are hurtling my way. I am piously trying to appease you, and all you can say is that?  You wound me. Well, in the next part, get ready for a little surprise. Hehe. Hehehehe. Hehe. You know that I am rubbing my hands together in Eriolian sinister anticipation, don't you? Yep. That's right. Get ready for a surprise. Hehe. Boy am I in an evil mood today. 

Note: For those who asked, this will not be a lemon, but maybe somewhat limey. Very somewhat limey. 

Extra Note: For the disorder DUB, this is a real disease and all the symptoms listed are real. I do have this disease, and everything Tomoyo had experienced, I have also. 

Extra Extra Note: Here's a little bit of a clue for the next chapter: Conspiracy theories. He he. Oh boy, this is going to be fun.

Random Tidbits:

1. A brasserie is French for café, and a boulangerie is French for bakery.

2. Nice, Bordeaux and Calais are cities of France.

3. Louis Phillipe was a French monarch after the second French Revolution.

4. The de Medici's were the merchant princes of Venice. They came to power by merely making money, and taking over slowly that way. They were the most foremost family in Italy, other than the powerful and scheming Borgias, during the Renaissance, but still are respected today.


	5. Those Who Are Illuminated

For Your Sake

Chapter 5: Those Who Are Illuminated

Warmth. It was strange, so very warm. Tomoyo's own body heat had barely been that, for her disease not only made her ill and faint, but it made her go cold, too. Warmth, in a sea of softness. And weariness. She was so tired. So tired, that she wanted to go straight back to sleep. With a start, Tomoyo woke and opened her eyes. What she opened her eyes to made her want to gasp in shock.

A faint purple tingle with silver sparkles once in a while surrounded her like a comforting cloak. It had deep blue streaks and curlicues, and when she put a hand outside of the aura it was cold. Then she remembered. Where was Eriol? He surely must have pulled her out of whatever body of water that she had fallen into. Sitting up, Tomoyo looked around her, and gauged her surroundings. It was beautiful here, and in contrast to the gothic interior of Eriol's manor, there were clean, ascetic planes of wood and chrome, glass and clean colors here. Each piece of furniture was a piece of modern art, hinting at grace and beauty with lines, not decoration. 

Someone cleared their throat at the door. Tomoyo looked around, and hastily pulled up a pale blue sheet to her bosom. She wanted to blush again, and fought it with little success. At least her back was to Eriol. At least. She wore not a stitch.

"How are you feeling, Daidouji-san?" Tomoyo wanted to die, or at least loose consciousness at this time.

"I am feeling well, Hiiragizawa-kun." She said in her calmest tones possible. He looked a bit disbelieving, but he had a right to.

"I want to apologize, Daidouji-san."

"For what?" 

"For not warning you about the stream that runs across the path to this house. I forgot about the bridge and about the very existence of the stream. I am deeply sorry. You must accept my apologies."

Tomoyo waved the apology away. 

"It was nothing, Hiiragizawa-kun." She said absently. He looked very neutral. Extremely neutral, with herself barely clothed as she was. In fact, no man should have looked as neutral as he did. And he himself was not completely clothed, either. He had on dark blue silk pajama pants, and a Chinese style robe in blue medallions on black. It gaped open in the front, showing a considerable expanse of perfectly defined muscle of the chest and abdomen. Tomoyo blushed. Again! Eriol pulled the robe together at her blush, and excused himself. Again, Tomoyo waved the apology away.

"Do you need anything, Daidouji-san? Do you want me to remove the barrier? Please forgive my using it, but I think that you had hypothermia."

"Oh no, I like the barrier. And I think that I'll just sleep a bit more. Thank you." Eriol smiled at her, and left quietly, closing the door behind him. Tomoyo fell back again into a cocoon of warmth and softness, and let dreams reign. 

When Tomoyo next woke, she was alone in an expansive bed of pale blue and white linens, smooth as silk to the touch and very fine. There were no windows were, only a few doors, that she guessed would lead to a bathroom, closet, and the outside hall. So this was what the house looked from the inside. She felt much better, and the air did not seem as frigid as it formerly had. Draped across the end of the bed was a thick chenille robe, with long sleeves yet was not exactly on the long side. In fact, it would expose a great portion of leg. Tomoyo hesitated, then shrugged it on quickly. It wasn't exactly the tropics in there. At least it was warm. 

Opening the door, she walked into what could have been an alien spaceship with all of its slivery curves and antiseptic glistening white. There were pale hues of blue and dove grey here too, but it was all made to give the room a feel of overwhelming white beauty. Where was Eriol? Surely this house was not as big as that. Tomoyo opened some more doors, a sliding, frosted glass door that led to a kitchen that looked more like a space control center, with gadgets and strange looking cupboards and shelves that were all chrome, made to look more suited to vaporizing aliens rather than chopping celery or opening cans. And it was all overwhelmingly clean. Perhaps Eriol used his magic to clean houses. Probably not.

One set of stairs was to her right, curving its metallic length up somewhere. She went up, and saw the first floor. So, she had been in the basement. But then where did the stairs near the study lead to? She went back down to the basement, and went down the other set of stairs. There were two basements in this house, apparently. How very odd. This one had only a central room that was none too big, and a wide hall with tall ceilings that was lined with doors. She opened the first one, and saw a large collection of computer monitors, thin LCD screens and software and hardware, all lacquered a silver color. The second door lead to a very large room, the wall lined with television screens. There was a central desk, with gadgets and things that she could not even identify, only to classify them as some sort of advanced communications technology. There were rooms leading from this one, too, and from one she heard Eriol's voice. 

"Kill him if you must, but remember what happened with our last attempt. We were lucky to find a scapegoat in that one, and even he let things out. We were extremely lucky that no one believed him except for the conspiracists. Let JFK be a lesson."

Tomoyo was aghast. John F. Kennedy? What on earth was he talking about! Eriol had paused. Who was he talking to?

"I know what he wants, Sebastian." Eriol continued. 

"But you must remind him that we can suffer him being alive, but we cannot suffer being discovered." Eriol sounded completely cool, calm as if he weren't talking about a possible assassination. What was happening? Tomoyo felt her heart seized by fear, but she stayed. Her curiosity was too great, and even as a child she had gotten into more than one situation as a result of her remarkable curiosity. She cursed herself for staying, but she had resigned to her curiosity a long while ago.

"Good. Then you will tell him my thoughts on it?" There was another pause.

"That's alright, then. I will see you in Berlin at the aforementioned meeting place in one week?" Tomoyo did not know what to do. It was too unreal to be happening.

"Gut. Ich werden Ihnen dort sehen. Bis dann." And then she heard the metallic beep of a communications device. It was definitely time to go. She tiptoed to the door, and opened the door as quietly as she could. Or at least tried to open it. It wouldn't budge. And then she felt something metallic and cold pressed to her temple.

"My apologies, Daidouji-san, but I am afraid that you must come away from that door now." Eriol said calmly. Tomoyo felt her heart thumping wildly—no, it was trying to make a hole in her chest. Was he going to shoot her? Suddenly, it was hard for her to breathe.

No. He was not going to kill her right then. He might stain the immaculately white carpet. But why else would he have a muffled gun? This was not happening. It could not be happening. It was definitely happening.

"Calm down, Daidouji-san. If I were going to kill you, I would have already done it." Barely perceptible, her mind registered that his voice was hard. Cool. Infinitely in charge. Almost noncommittal. But when she looked up at him, at his devastatingly handsome face, the face of a Greek god for all of its humanity, she was struck by the iron of his eyes. They were steely cool, and suddenly, Tomoyo realized that if she were to duel to the death with someone, in an inescapable situation, her opponent's eyes would look exactly as Eriol's. And she suddenly could not talk.

Gripping her arm not too gently, Eriol led her into another room, and then another, and opened a secret room behind a wall. The pale stone that had previously looked immobile moved silently to show a spacious room, with a chair in the center. Tomoyo suddenly felt sick when she thought that torture was what this room was probably used for.

"What, what are you going to do to me, Hiiragizawa-kun?" She concentrated on trying to stop her hand from shaking. He took a good look at her.

"Sit down Daidouji-san. I will not harm you, as long as you agree to cooperate. Are we understood?" Tomoyo nodded mutely. She was not in any position to bargain. His voice was still iced steel, and his eyes made her shiver. They glinted with readiness, and his entire stance showed that he was ready to blast off her head with the wrong move. Not that she would move at all.

"And remember, Daidouji-san, breathe. You can't live without breathing. Remember?" He was jeering at her, and with no good nature. She stared at him mutely, idiotically. There really was something wrong with her tongue.

"Do you need an inhaler? Or are you merely trying the holding-my-breath-until-you-let-me-have-my-way-or-release-me-from-gunpoint trick?" He must really be overwrought. He never did unless under great distress. She thought that it was to cover up an equilibrium balanced on blade's edge. And what was going to make him loose that balance? Tomoyo blinked. He really had no right to be mocking her.

"And so eloquent today, aren't we, Daidouji-san?"

And suddenly, something in her changed. She stood up, and glared at him.

"What are you doing?" Tomoyo asked in her best prima donna voice. It was imperious, cool, and completely self-confident. Eriol rolled his eyes.

"I knew that you would recover, Daidouji-san. Only I expected it to be sooner." He said caustically. Apparently his genteel façade had died away. And along with the remark, he added a smirk on top of that.

"What do you want me to do? To say? How to act?" Tomoyo knew that she might as well get down to business. If there was any to be had.

"And what are you mixed up with? Who was that, that you were speaking to? And are you going to kill me or not? Because if you are—"

"Sit down and shut up, Daidouji-san." Eriol said mildly. With that smart-ass smile on his face. Tomoyo made a mental note to slap that look off his face the next time he did not have her at gunpoint. Seething, she sat, and tried her best to glare a hole through his head. Oh, he was outdoing himself being a mocking, heartless jerk.

"I am sorry, but my head is not flammable, Daidouji-san. So there is no use trying to make it go up in flames like that. Really, Daidouji-san." Tomoyo opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap. She glanced at him disdainfully. He surveyed her coolly, and she suspected that she was supposed to notice. She saw out of the corner of her field of vision that his eyes were making a trip up the length of her legs, and as she suspected, to make her angry. He was doing a good job of it, though she would rather die than admit it. And this was the real Hiiragizawa Eriol, when he was not being genteel and gentle and benign. He stilled radiated readiness, as if she would jump up and try to tackle him to the floor. She snorted at that. He was a foot taller and a great deal stronger. What did he expect?

"Aren't I amusing?" Eriol said to her half-laugh. Apparently his good-humored mood, albeit in a darkly amusing way, had vanished. There was really no more laughter in his voice. He got up before she could blink, in a fluid motion almost like a jungle cat to stand over her. He examined her face, trying to gauge her thoughts.

"What did you hear, Daidouji-san?" he asked quietly. "I want to know what you heard." Tomoyo refused to look at him. She refused to even acknowledge his existence. And she thought that he had been kind! She felt indignantly impotent. And she especially hated it when she was impotent.

"What did you hear, Daidouji-san?" It was half-demanding now. His face which had been previously rigid with control was gradually letting its iron grip go, slipping, ebbing ever so slowly.

Well Tomoyo wasn't about to let him know anything. She knew that she was being foolish, but there was a stubbornness in her sometimes, and unfortunately, it was one of those times.

Eriol put a hand under her chin, and turned her head to stare into his frigid eyes. There was rage hidden in them. Tomoyo jerked her chin around, and resumed her study of the wall. He released his hand pointedly, and stood back.

"There is no need to be this childish, you know. Just tell me what you heard, and promise to never tell another, and all will be well." He said lightly. Deceptively lightly. There was still that something in his stance that suggested that if she did not, he would just kill her. Tomoyo rolled her eyes ostentatiously. She still felt wholly infuriated with him.

"Gods woman, what do you want out of me!" Tomoyo jumped at his sudden roar. 

"What I want, Hiiragizawa-kun," Tomoyo replied icily, "Is to not be addressed as woman. It sounds like here dog! You should know that I am a prisoner, but even I am human." He gave a humorless laugh.

"Is that so, Daidouji-san? Well here is a bargain for you." Emboldened by her silence, he continued.

"What if I never again call you woman, then you will tell me what you heard?" He smiled mockingly.

"A fair exchange for you, my dear." It suddenly occurred to her that he was watching her. Watching her as a wolfhound watches prey, or as a prey watches a wolfhound, she didn't know. Tomoyo turned her head, and gave him a poisonous stare. 

"If that's the way you want it, Hiiragizawa-kun." 

"I heard nothing." Tomoyo told him imperiously.

"You are a liar, Daidouji-san." Eriol replied coolly.

"And you are a honorless, callous jerk."

"Well at least I don't make a habit of snooping."

"Oh look at you! You plotted and snooped as much as I did!"

"You don't know about that."

"Oh don't I?"

"No you don't. You are far too pedantical for your own good."

"Is that so, Daidouji-san? I think that what you want to know might be far too dangerous for your own good."

"How do you know? You just think you know everything because you have lived so long."

"But I do know so much more, that it might as well be everything."

"What is this dangerous knowledge, this poisoned knowledge that you think is too dangerous?" 

"I know that it is far too dangerous for you."

"Then why do you know it?"

"Because it is not too dangerous for me."

"You are a pillow stuffed full of arrogance, do you know that?"

"I would have thought of it as pride, which is obviously something that you lack."

"Well I hate you."

"I'm crushed, Daidouji-san."

"Shut up, Hiiragizawa-kun! Why must you be so persistent in--"

Tomoyo's words were cut off when Eriol jerked her violently up by the wrists, and by a hot, brutal kiss that nearly made her forget that she was trying to at least resist him. She struggled violently then, but the harder she struggled, the closer he held her, and she ended up against the entire length of him. A heat radiated from Eriol like a fire, and he was plundering her mouth with a sort of thoroughness and depth that made her feel faint, and not only was she not resisting, she was clinging to him, melting against him. His skin was soft, softer and smoother than what virility could account for. And his hands were on her, she noted faintly, doing things that further robbed her of her breath.

Eriol broke the deep, harsh kiss abruptly, and set her back on her feet. Tomoyo sat down bonelessly on 

the chair again, chest heaving with exertion. Eriol turned abruptly, also breathing hard, and paced up and 

down in front of her for the length of the room, like a dangerous caged predator that was not at all pleased with its captivity.

"You will tell me what you heard, ma cherè." He said softly, the softness of a blade being drawn from its scabbard. Tomoyo's lips, swollen by their brutal treatment, moved of their own accord.

"I heard it from when you alluded to JFK. I heard everything after that." Eriol turned.

"Are you sure that that is what you heard?"

"Yes." Tomoyo said faintly. He turned his back on her again.

"Good. Very good." He muttered. Then he started to pace again. And he paced some more. He looked a dangerous young animal, full of primal rage and primeval danger. But he was beautiful, as beautiful as the 

Greek statues of Apollo and Poseidon and Zeus. And his danger made him more beautiful, if that was possible. In fact, not many women came to being as physically perfect as he was. But even with that physical perfection, there was an erudite edge to him, one that exuded worldly knowledge along with danger. It frightened her now, and fascinated her. 

Pivoting around suddenly, he scrutinized her impersonally.

"Are you sure about what you heard?"

"Yes."

"And what will you do if I tell you nothing?"

"Tell others about it."

"I see. What if I told you what was happening? Would you still tell others then?" What was he going at? 

What was there to know?

"No."

"You are sure?" Tomoyo nodded.

"So be it." So what? Tomoyo wondered. He came to stand over her, and took her wrists gently this time to lift her up. However, he did not let go. He held onto her hands gently, as if trying to alleviate his previous behavior, and started to chant in an unknown language. It was melodic, but it was guttural at times too. A flowing combination of French and German, if that was possible. It was as if he was seeing something else other than her entirely. And there was a white light that wrapped itself around them, and suddenly she could feel him. She could feel his mind, feel the suspicion and the rage and the worry that he felt, and she could feel his body too. She wanted to blush at the intimacy. Was it her honesty that he was trying to gauge? And then, she sensed a change in the white light in its neat streaks, a sense of openness. And it died away.

Tomoyo was left from that light, that light that suddenly vanished from being. Eriol was watching her now.

"What did you do, Hiiragizawa-kun?" Tomoyo asked cautiously, unsure of what was to happen next.

"I made sure that you would be truthful to your promise, if I inform you about what is going on. And you passed. So promise." He looked as everyday as if he were commenting on the weather, or some other mundane little thing that would have escaped Tomoyo's notice. But not this.

"Upon my honor and soul, I swear by all that I hold dear that I will never speak of the events that have happened in this lower level, and never will I speak to anyone of what you will tell me, not in any way, shape or form. As it is said, so shall it be forever, time without end."

Eriol bowed formally, with the lightness and grace, the very ease of a dancing master.

"Thus is the oath spoken, and by my honor and soul, thus is the agreement made. As it is said, so shall it be forever, time without end." 

He ended it as formally, kissing her cheeks and forehead lightly to seal the bargain. Then he offered a hand and lifted her from the chair, then led her upstairs.

Upstairs, there was already a meal laid out for them, probably the doing of Eriol. There were cold cuts of different meats, salted, cured, smoked, peppered, in every sort there was. Another large silver platter of dozens of cheeses were cut thin and laid by more different types of bread, all gorgeously arranged on exquisitely painted Russian jeweled-peacock china, with delicately done silver filigree. It was a quintessentially German evening meal. There were two fruit bowls of the finest glass blown so thin by hand that the clear parts almost seemed to not be there, probably straight out of the Cribska Factory. The silverware also had a delicate gold gilding, and the finely fluted champagne glasses were gilded, the gold making painstakingly intricate traceries in the crystal. Eriol popped the cork on the champagne bottle, and poured her a goblet of the cold, golden liquid. 

Upon pulling a chair out for her and giving her a glass of champagne, he saluted her and said, "To our agreement, Daidouji-san," and drank.

"To our agreement." Tomoyo murmured. Then she took a drink. 

"So, Hiiragizawa-kun, are you ever going to tell me what this is all about? The American president and the spy's gun and the secret chambers?" Eriol chuckled in an amused way.

"Of course Daidouji-san. I will begin right now, if you wish." Tomoyo nodded graciously.

"Let me tell you this point-blank. I belong to a brotherhood." Tomoyo raised her eyebrows sarcastically. Eriol responded to her sarcasm, "A secret society."

"Well that's much better than some old brotherhood, Hiiragizawa-kun. Continue." Eriol nodded in mock servility towards her.

"We are possibly the most powerful group of people in the entire world, more powerful than even the United Nations, than NATO, than the European Union or the United States because we inhabit the highest positions in all aspects of politics, religion, and economics. Socially, we also have our members and allies. We control much of the world, in all of its political, religious, economic, and social aspects. And we are mysterious, for we are supposed to have disbanded hundreds of years ago, but we are shrouded in mystery. And we are more powerful than ever." There was a sense of disbelief in Tomoyo, a sense of shadowy people controlling everyone, even when her rational self told her that it could not be.

"I think that you are making a joke on me. You have no proof that this so called society exists. You have no proof of its power." Eriol smiled mockingly.

"For the reincarnation of Clow, I have a few surprising things up my proverbial sleeve. Our society collects people with and without magical powers. Because I am Clow's reincarnation, they wanted me very badly from the start. And so I joined, not knowing the full penalties of it. But it was Kaho who told me to join." Eriol smiled with an extremely callous politeness, a vicious punctiliousness.

"Because I am half of Clow, I was able to elevate myself, once entangled within the net of my brothers, to the Inner Circle. They are the most powerful, and control much of the world's events."

"You still have not given me proof, Hiiragizawa-kun."

"Here is a bit of proof, but the rest comes later." Eriol smirked at her mockingly as he stripped off his robe, now only clad in black pants. He pointed to a tattoo on his left shoulder, the size of a fist, of a pyramid with an eye on it.

"This is the symbol of the secret society." He said. Then he put his robe back on, and smirked at her again. Oh he was outdoing himself at being cocky. Tomoyo thought that the cockiness was a sign that his guard was still up, that he was still poised on the edge and ready to kill her at the blink of an eye. He then pulled her up from her chair. He led her to the next room, Where there was a display of currencies from around the world in a small museum-like room, where the money was in glass cases, able to swivel around so as to display both sides. Eriol turned it to the back side of a piece of paper money. 

"Do you see this symbol on this American dollar?" Tomoyo nodded.

"It is the same."

"So it is." Tomoyo said, frowning at the symbol. She did not think Eriol would lie about something like this, but perhaps he was still being his perverse self.

"And do you see this notation? 'Novum ordo seclorum'?" Eriol asked. Tomoyo nodded again.

"It means 'New Secular Order'." Tomoyo was surprised.

"Secular as in nonreligious?" She asked, startled.

"Yes."  Eriol replied. "So you see? An inch away it says, 'In God We Trust'." 

Tomoyo stared at the American dollar bill, the symbol of a free land with many gods. Why would they put on there that they trusted god when an inch away they proclaimed a new order which was nonreligious? She couldn't fathom it.

"And what," she asked dryly, "is your society called?" Eriol turned to her, with laughing, mocking eyes.

"We call ourselves Those Who Are Illuminated, those who see and walk in the light." Tomoyo raised an eyebrow at him sarcastically. 

"We call ourselves the Illuminati."

MWAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Erhem. Sorry, but I bet I got you there, didn't I? Hehe. Oh yes, a few notes:

1. The Cribska factory is one of the oldest glass factories in the world, being founded in 1414. My mother owns a gorgeous piece of cobalt blue blown glass. The Factory is in the Czech Republic, and is still at the same site at which it has been sitting since 1414. 

2. The Illuminati do not officially exist anymore. There are few reliable sources on it, so if anyone has a juicy [factual and confirmed] tidbit, e-mail it to me at sorceress@usa.com

3. Russian jeweled-peacock china is exquisite, with brilliant colors in the pattern of a peacock's tail, thus giving it its name. It is highly coveted, with a factory to produce it in Kiev.

4. A muffled gun is a gun with an elongated, cylindrical barrel that makes no bang when shot. This is the thing that James Bond uses when he doesn't want to attract any attention.

5. Gilding is putting a layer of gold over everything, like sterling silver. Gilding crystal is notoriously expensive and difficult, but it can be done.


	6. Adèle

Chapter 6

Adèle

France was beautiful, Tomoyo decided. A veritable endless world of sun and green and idyllic places. It was a perfect day. The rays of sun sashayed over vale and dale, and the rolling hills undulated gently in their verdant perfection. In England it was probably still cold in May, but here in the South of France it was warm and sunny. Perfect. Eriol glanced at her once, and gave her that infuriating half smile. He only gave it when he had thought of something particularly insulting towards her. She knew it too well, and disdained to comment. 

She was still not very accustomed to sitting in the left side, the passenger side, while Eriol drove in the right. It was sort of unsettling, but Tomoyo did her best to not let it impede on the scenery. No wonder Monet enjoyed painting outside. He did very astute summarizations of a sunny moment.

The silvery car in which they rode had a bluish tint, very futuristic and luxurious. It was a Bentley, and expertly made. She liked this one, with its state-of-the-art sound systems, rigged to make it seem as if she were sitting in the middle of the chamber orchestra that was playing at the moment, "Sei Lob und Preis mit Ehren" by Johann Sebastian Bach.

"We will be there soon, and the staff is expecting us. I hope that you will like it very much." Tomoyo smiled, and nodded, refusing to give up her relaxation. He sounded so controlled and casual, that she knew he was still suffering from the aftereffects of when he had revealed his secret to her. Tomoyo had been surprised at his lack of control, but she supposed that he had really no other way out. His society did not take lightly anything that impugned on their secrecy. And if he had not wanted to reveal anything, well he could hardly explain to Sakura how her best friend was shot dead, and if he killed Sakura too, he could hardly explain to Li how both of them ended up dead. And if he had killed all three-Tomoyo let out a small giggle then there was then Li Yelan to answer to.

Tomoyo herself had thought that a memory-erasing spell would have been infinitely easier, but Eriol had explained that he could not do it because she had picked up some sort of magical aura from Sakura, and Sakura was now the most powerful magician alive. Anything that rubbed off of her would not be reversible. That was his misfortune. Tomoyo really did feel like rubbing her hands together in glee, that she got into a secret that so few knew. Oh Eriol could preach all day long about its dangers and ignorance means bliss and so forth, but the real thing was, she needed an adrenaline rush. And if it did get her killed, death meant you were dead and you couldn't do a thing about it. So why worry?

"And there is someone there that I would like for you to meet." Eriol continued. She felt another one of his infuriating speeches coming on. I know more than you, you know less than me, drop dead if you do happen to know more, all of the male arrogance sort of things that her mother had warned her about. Tomoyo oddly felt like giggling again. Really, these things really set her out of her sorts. But she felt happy, that odd emotion that made you want to float because it was so very uplifting, and made you disregard things that really did not agree with you.

"I hope to know that we have been very old friends, and that you will not be rude to her." Eriol was too arrogant, Tomoyo decided. Even that distasteful trait could not put a damper on her day. So she quirked an eyebrow, forever icy and aloof and beautiful (that expression which he had made known to be extremely obnoxious to him) and asked,

"Why would I be rude to her?" Eriol gave her a penetrating look.

"I meant condescending, perhaps. She is wiser than her years, Daidouji-san. And remember that appearances are extremely deceiving." He was making riddles again. Tomoyo made a gesture, somewhere between assent and dismissal. 

They rode for a while more in silence, Tomoyo making occasional absent comments on the countryside and scenery, and on Eriol's superlative taste in chamber music. It was "Ertöt' uns durch dein' Gute" now, still by Bach, but somewhat livelier. They had quite similar tastes, Vivaldi and Boccherini, and anything Baroque or classical. Tomoyo did not quite like the chaos that reigned, with only that whisper of order in romantic and modern music; it seemed that the more modern they got, the more outrageous they became. For her, music was to be orderly, but if the composer had done his job, then it shouldn't sound like it. Brahms' piano, cello, and violin trios were very good, too. 

"We're here, Daidouji-san." Eriol's voice startled her the very slightest bit, and she stared in wonder at the wonderful old styled chateau that loomed over her. It was not as big as the Reed Manor back in England, that being Eriol's chief residence, yet it was still large enough to be qualified as a mansion, if not a palace. Decorative buttresses branched off the façade, and there were gloomy angels and seemingly miles of carved leaves and scrolls and swirls. It was a greyish brown stone, and spoke of massive age and dignity. The gardens here were less formal than that of Reed Manor, and it was wild enough to look almost happstance. Almost, if not quite. The randomness was a bit too random, and the nature was almost too perfect; nature's ideal rarely occurred on such a grand scale in nature itself. In the back, she could see fountains as wonderful as any that one might find in the Palais du Versailles. 

"Hiiragizawa-kun, you pick the most wonderful houses. Can I explore this one, too?" 

"If it pleases you, Daidouji-san." Came the amused reply. Tomoyo gave him a shrug. She really didn't know where she got the insane desire to explore old houses, but she always willingly sated that desire. It was fun.

A very blond woman, with white streaks, came out the front door to greet Eriol. The butler who had opened that door, seemed almost her twin. 

"Bonjour, Monsieur Hiiragizawa. Bonjour, Mademoiselle." Upon the discovery of Tomoyo's fluent French, the housekeeper, Madame Guillame chattered on excitedly at a foreigner finally able to speak her tongue, unlike so many other cretins that she had served. Madame Guillame complimented Tomoyo on her exquisite accent, her perfect pronunciation. And such a pretty mademoiselle, too. Monsieur Eriol was blessed. Tomoyo glared at Eriol for the implication and was only answered with a shrug, tried to open her mouth, but was lost in a wave of quick French chatter. There was really no way to interrupt politely. But, sacre bleu, she must settle them into their rooms! There was not a minute to loose, or the Monsieur would grow impatient. Hurry, you slow girls! 

Madame Guillame apologized profusely, waving her hands at the slowness of housemaids these days. No wonder Monsieur Hiiragizawa did not stay so long here, with his beautiful little niece who adored him. And his darling little niece had been pestering her about when he would arrive with the beautiful mademoiselle-at this Tomoyo raised an eyebrow at Eriol again- and he raised one finger as if saying, I will answer your questions in due time.

Madame Guillame was tall and statuesque, with such dark eyes and a dignified carriage. She chattered as if they were best friends over tea, though, and seemed to only glare at the housemaids who stared and giggled at Eriol and Tomoyo herself. They all seemed to be young, for some reason. Tomoyo felt as if Madame Guillame was chattering a hole through her. Did that woman never run out of things to say? And the marathon-runner's rate at which that woman was walking was making her out of breath. Madame stopped so quickly and suddenly that Tomoyo nearly plowed over her.

"Oh, Monsieur, I will settle you and the mademoiselle's things in your rooms, yes, the ones you specified, of course, Monsieur! And here is the little mademoiselle's music room. Of course, you know where it is. She will be so happy to see you. Au revoir for now!"

Eriol nodded kindly with a smile, and Tomoyo let out a small laugh as the woman descended down the marble stairs. Her footsteps reverberated throughout the airy hall. Eriol had the most remarkable housekeepers.

"Here is whom I wish for you to meet, Daidouji-san." Eriol opened the door politely for her, and she walked into the most wonderful room she had possibly ever seen. Old wood gleamed rich from the sun through a row of balconies, the dark grain of the wood shimmering on every surface of the room. The ceiling was all glass, in a rotunda fashion, edged with gilt and stained glass. Flowers and birds were outlined in the brilliantly colored glass. Carving covered a great portion of the wood, and bookcases more than twice as tall as she, and they arched themselves genteelly over her and over a beautiful nine-foot grand piano. The piano itself was a dark walnut, with a strange grain like waves, and at that piano was seated a little girl, perhaps four years of age, or maybe five. She needed a tall tapestry cushion to reach the delicate ivory keys, yellowed with age. 

The little girl was exquisite. Absolutely and irrevocably. Her hair was black like her own in long ringlets, with the most gorgeous eyes, exactly the shade of sapphires, deep and potent. It was a misconception that sapphires were blue in the exact hue, but sapphires really are a deep blue-violet. Whether it was more blue or more violet, it is not possible to tell. And her dress was a work of art, too. Tomoyo was content to only look at it, of pale mint and lemon silk chiffon, many layers light as air that blended together, but it was the lace that caught her attention. It was very beautifully scalloped Valenciennes lace, and on every border of the lace was sewn thousands of seed pearls. Strewn amongst the painstakingly intricate loops were so many seed pearls that Tomoyo stared. It was short sleeved, the sleeves puffed and slashed to show a paler yellow and pearls and lace beneath, and interwoven with white ribbons. Lace petticoats peeked from underneath the skirt that displayed tiny, cleverly made tan colored sandals. Even her toes were lacquered into a pearly translucent color. The little girl wore a tiny pearl bracelet, too, with ribbons lined with pearls in her hair. 

It was all-fair to take the breath away, and she seemed almost a fairy child who had come to grace mortals. She was almost not real. Eriol rushed over to her with a most affectionate smile, and took her into her arms. The fairy child giggled with glee as he jounced her, flouncing the laces on her dress and her ringlets. 

"Daidouji-san, I would like for you to meet Adèle." Eriol put her down gently. Adèle seemed to have no fear of strangers, and curtsied to Tomoyo in a very practiced, graceful manner, one that set her ringlets asway and rustled the delicate silk chiffon. Tomoyo was enchanted.

"Bonjour Mademoiselle Tomoyo. Ça va bien?" Tomoyo nodded in a queenly fashion, and bobbed an abbreviated curtsy, as it was quite difficult to curtsy with such a short skirt.

"Oui, ça va. Et tu?" Tomoyo replied.

"Ça va, et merci, Mademoiselle." Adèle had a voice that was absolutely singular. It sounded almost still, and was pronounced to the fullest. It was like the ringing of crystal chimes, of silver flutes. 

"D'accord." Tomoyo smiled down at the little girl, and continued to speak to her. How beautiful she was! Her face made one stare in wonder at how humanity could be made into such perfection. Eriol simply stood, and watched them. It was almost as if he were expecting something to happen.

"I am very honored to meet you, though Eriol had not told me that he had a niece."

"Oh no, mademoiselle, I am not really Eriol's niece as many believe. I was an acquaintance of Clow Reed, ah, you know him?" Tomoyo stared. Adèle possessed more self-assurance, more poise than any five year old. And she lacked the lisp of childhood.

"Daidouji-san, as I said, Adèle is not your usual four year old girl. She is not even really four. She would actually be about four hundred seventy years old." Eriol said airily, as if he were commenting on some mundane thing like the weather. Tomoyo tried to wipe the stare off her face.

"I see." Tomoyo turned to Adèle. "My apologies, Mademoiselle, for my rudeness. I was not informed." Adèle made a dismissive gesture, and turned to the piano. She motioned at it.

"Would you mind very much if I would play for Eriol?" Tomoyo nodded politely. 

"Of course, Madame." Eriol lifted Adèle onto the bench, and she set to playing something devastatingly complex. Tomoyo was astounded. How did she reach all that way? Eriol studied her for a moment before resuming his watch of Adèle's little performance. Tomoyo felt as if she had just been hit over the head with a very large stone. Adèle banged on the piano as if she were trying to kill it, and Tomoyo then recognized the cadenza as something trademark of Beethoven's. Eriol softly began to tell her of it.

"Adèle was loved by the late Beethoven, you know, and he wrote songs for her that he never published, and never made any other copy except the original. One song that he did publish is one you might recognize. Fϋr Elise. Adele's full name is Adèle Elise de Laënchres. It was such a shame that she had already turned to her present visage." Tomoyo was fascinated.

"She is very remarkable. How did you meet her? And how did she become this way?" Tomoyo asked. She had to know. Eriol laughed at her curiosity. When she seemed offended, he continued with the story of Adèle.

"It is also the story of the Illuminati. She was a member, because we do not discriminate according to gender, and she was the Guardian of the Key. The key of time, that is. Well, no one knows how it happened except she herself, but the key made her that way. That is her own secret. She is immortal now, but she must stay in her present physical form." 

The piano music that was composed for her was banged out by Adèle still. It was terribly fascinating to Tomoyo. Eriol continued smoothly, his eyes ever watching her for any reaction. He was too knowing.

"That is why I must change the servants every two years, before they realize that Adèle is not as other children are." Tomoyo nodded.

"But Madame Guillame is the exception, of course, because I am willing to cast a spell over her to ensure she does not notice. It is not difficult, just a bit tricky. And you will make friends with Adèle, won't you?" Eriol watched her anxiously for a moment until she gave her assent. He must have been very good friends with her. And still is.

"For you, Daidouji-san, she holds the secrets of the Iluminati." Tomoyo looked up in surprise. It was the little girl who was not a little girl who knew all these things? 

Tomoyo was silent again. What was it like, to dwell forever, into eternity, in a child's body? Tomoyo could see Adèle, walking in the great marble galleries filled with the lesser works of the great Renaissance artists, see her amazing the art historians by commenting appropriately on some random objet d'art. And she could see Adèle forever accompanying Eriol to the opera in Paris, or Bordeaux perhaps, seeing the passerby in the street see the handsome father with such an exquisite daughter, off to some unknown destination, perhaps to meet the beautiful mother of such a daughter. 

But they would never know that there was little trace, if any, of childishness left in Adèle as she would sit, so very still as a statue, and watch the great operas or see the strangely patterned Vermeers in the Louvre and wonder of how time had gone by. Time, that great diffusing thing that does not even exist, that deteriorates relationships and art. Time, something that was both on Adèle's side, and that was against her. She would never be able to live as others did, even if she were still immortal. Four hundred and seventy years, spent in so many places that it was dizzying. 

And love. Love was the spice added to one's life that made in worth living. What would it be like, to want and yearn for love, and keep it in one's heart, but never being able to express it, as it was with the great composer? There was only music to show for that great love.

Adèle had finished her sonata. Tomoyo gave a brief applause, before speaking to Adèle again.

"You know, madame, I think we will become very good friends." Adèle inclined her head slightly. Those sapphire eyes watched Tomoyo, and Tomoyo watched back. A golden sunlight streamed into the room, and by happstance gilded Adèle's hair to a shimmering white color, almost like her pearls. She was a little doll, almost, with her cupid's bow mouth, red as coral, and her great, beautiful eyes. Those eyes were absolutely remarkable. Such wise eyes in that face, always watching. The sapphire eyes watched her, as if trying to read what others might have written onto her soul.

"Eriol has told me something of you, mademoiselle, and I think that we will." Adèle slipped off the bench in a rustle like angel's wings, and came to give Tomoyo a kiss on each cheek. A scent of lemon verbena enveloped Tomoyo. Adèle was almost too unnatural. There was a strange silence in this house, but her voice seemed to be a part of that silence.

"I think that we are alike in many ways, Tomoyo, may I call you so? And that we will find that our likenesses will complement each other's. Please, we must spend more time together." Adèle's composture was somewhat jarring from that little face.

"I would be honored." Tomoyo told her, and it was the truth. Perhaps she had finally found a comrade to speak of things with. Adèle merely perched on a small ottoman, sized for her, and began to chatter with Eriol on the opera which was going to play.


	7. Moonlight Sonata

Chapter 7

Moonlight Sonata

Tomoyo did hope that her dress was not too risque. It was a brilliant turqoise, flounced in satin and sewn on every edge with fantastical flourishes of pearls. It was almost reminiscent of Greek robes, diphanous in form. The neckline plunged to a lowness that Tomoyo refused to think about, yet it displayed pale, perfect shoulders that managed to make her look somewhat dignified. She was apparently learning from Adèle. In fact, it was Adèle who had suggested that they two attend a fête given by Those Who Are Illuminated. Eriol was dressed starkly yet impeccably in black tie, the deep broadcloth and fine wool making an impressive impression on all those who glanced at him. Platinum watch, platinum cuff links each studded with a three carat diamond. There was certainly no question of his wealth, or of his power that he practically reeked of.

Tomoyo was exquisitely aware of the glances cast her way; they were furitive and openly admiring. And she rather enjoyed that. 

"Oh dear." She said in mock consternation. " Everyone's looking at me." Eriol chuckled softly, his lips curving in a most sensuous way that caused a bit of feminine fluttering. 

"And I'm rather proud of that, dear Daidouji-san." He said with a touch of pride. 

"Would you mind very much if I left you alone for a while? There are some men here whom I wish to speak with, but I know they won't listen to a word I say with you by my side."

"Of course." Tomoyo replied dryly. 

Really, she reflected absently, men were far too easy for their own good.

Eriol was still engaged in witty conversation with the wife of the Spanish king, Sophia, was it? Sophia was acting like a true coquette under his attention, as Tomoyo was annoyedly trying to put off the former Shah of Iran. He was rich, but he didn't have to treat her in such a manner. Tomoyo turned her attention to the Secretary of War of the United States, and the Chancellor of Germany. They were a bit more affable in their conversation. Suddenly, a warm breath on her shoulder made her turn in surprise. Eriol had abandoned the Queen of Spain.

"You look bored, my dear." Tomoyo rolled her eyes.

"Really?" Eriol chuckled at her sarcasm.

'Would you care to dance, then?" Tomoyo pursed her lips judiciously. Then she nodded.

"Might as well."  She grumbled. She was quite aware as Eriol led her to a great expanse of polished marble that they two were the focus of every eye. Eriol apparently knew each of these heads of state, immensely wealthy business owners, and nobility of every kind. If the president of the United States was here when he was proclaimed to be giving a live speech at the White House, she supposed that she would believe Eriol in whatever he said. There were so many people here, the Queen of England included, that she no longer doubted it. Many of these people were known to the rest of the world to be somewhere else. 

If there was a thing that Eriol didn't know how to do, she decided, then Hell had just experienced it's first ice age. He twirled her across the shimmering floor with the panache of a dancing instructor, to some elegant mazurka. Tomoyo took pride in twirling as gracefully as he. His eyes laughed at her.

As he twirled her about, she let herself think about the strange looks that he had been giving her lately. When he thought that she was not aware, she would suddenly turn her head and catch him with a strange, alert look in his eyes, a tenseness that was more than his normal tauntness and alertness. She couldn't think of what it possibly could be. She ruminated absentmindedly, and it did eat up much of her time.

And so the rest of the evening bore on, a nine course meal requisite with all the delicacies that the world had to offer, beluga caviar, foie gras, pate with crème de menthe, every sort of expensive or rare food that Tomoyo had ever heard of. She ate little, as most of it was too strange for her tastes. A plain croissant for her was infinitely better than a meringue pastry stuffed with a tropical fruit with a slightly bitter aftertaste. 

As they returned in a superb Alfa Romeo convertible, black as night but somehow reflecting blue-green and white, Tomoyo decided that Eriol had had too much bourbon and wine. Luckily, she had persuaded him to let her drive the convertible, and now they were tearing through a countryside of France at a breakneck speed of over two hundred kilometers per hour. Eriol was making witty conversation.

Most people would have sooner chosen the Pope before Eriol as one whom they thought drunk, but Tomoyo knew him too well to be put off by his extreme, almost mocking politeness and charm. It seemed that the drunker her got, the neater and more controlled he got, and only when he had far too much, did he get more charming. Mostly, he was quiet and solicitous, but to such a degree it was cloying. 

He was now giving a witty review of how the Queen of Spain had tried to seduce him in the Ladies' Room. Tomoyo rolled her eyes and forebore trying to shut him up. He was now giving an appraisal of the Queen's enormous emerald, which he said was between twelve and fifteen carats, an excellent pear-cut stone. She also forebore repeating oh my god in her head. He was going to wreck them both soon.

With considerable relief, she drew to the chateau and let the porter drive it away, as the butler took her wrap and Eriol's coat. Eriol was by this time glaring ferociously at her. She made as if to ignore it, but it made her shoulder blades itch as he was trying to stare a hole through her. 

"What do you want, Eriol?" She asked, irritated. 

"You." Was her sole rejoinder. She glared at him. He merely shrugged, and changed the subject.

"Would you care to join me in the music room, Daidouji-san?" his voice was low, and husky, and she attributed it to too much wine.

"No." she replied rudely. "You should go to bed as you are too drunk to think straight."

"Why Daidouji-san, I will only go to bed if you come with me." His voice lowered as he spoke. Her cheeks were red with flame. Eriol smirked to see her blush.

"Are you blushing, Tomoyo?" He exaggeratedly spoke her name in that deep, husky voice, as her cheeks darkened to an appalling color. She prayed that it was not too horrid looking. 

"But if you do accompany me to the music room, I swear that I won't try anything and that I will stop teasing you." He pouted and whined. "Pleeeease?" Tomoyo really didn't want to stay near him in his condition. But she was feeling rather charitable and condescending because of the rampant admiration she had received at the dinner party. So she went.

As they climbed the spiral-shell steps, with the night sky in the windows sometimes, they came into the music room. Tomoyo searched for the lights, but found that there were none. Eriol bowed in exaggerated courtesy.

"There is no electricity in this wing, Daidouji-san. Allow me." Tall beeswax candles, three feet tall each, burst into light and almost immediately she could smell the fragrant bayberries. The rooms were still very dim. Eriol made it to the piano with flawless grace, and started to play. The soft, melancholy melody of Moonlight Sonata floated gently past the old volumes of books. 

"You may sit by me, Daidouji-san." Eriol said. Tomoyo slid onto the long bench seat next to him gracefully, and watched with fascination as his gracefully long fingers skimmed the ivory keys to make beautiful music. It was often said that one who's hands created beautiful things were not beautiful. Now she could she the saying for being false. Eriol's hands, as well as his music were both beautiful. 

The soft moonlight flooded the room, and the candles cast flickering shadows over the leather-bound books, and on the sparkling windows. The candlelight cast shadows and light, alternately over Eriol's profile, and made him seem pagan and not completely civilized. Savage, almost. But his face almost had that genteel skim to soften the savageness.  She felt herself relax. Suddenly, the music stopped, and she looked questioningly at Eriol. She opened her mouth to ask why he stopped, but he covered it in a hot kiss that drove all thoughts out of her head. His hands roamed cleverly over her, on skin usually demurely covered with fabric. A few minutes might have passed has he parted her lips and was delving her mouth. For a moment, he tore away. Breathlessly, he told her, 

"My apologies for lying to you, but I do not regret it."

And then he continued to kiss her, as if ravenous. Perhaps he was. The alcohol made him much less inhibited, and soon her dress was half undone and his jacket was off, and his shirt unbuttoned. She tore her mouth away from his for a moment to catch her breath, perhaps to slow her rapidly pounding heart, yet she had only a breath or so before he pulled her mouth down to his. 

She started to tremble as his mouth made a hot, passionate trail down the side of her throat, as his clever lips passed over a shoulder and across a collar bone. Drat her dress, she thought incoherently, as it was in the way. His lips dipped lower, to the lowest part that the neckline would allow, the valley between her breasts, and she was shaking with sensation. She pulled at his shirt restlessly. 

"Tomoyo." He moaned softly, as she started to kiss his neck. He shuddered violently when she sucked hard at his shoulder, leaving a blatantly red mark. He started to kiss her again, and again, a frantic kiss, then suddenly withdrew from her. 

Tomoyo was abruptly started from her position, as she was ontop of him on the leather couch; and as to how they got there, she did not remember. His eyes were darker than she had ever seen them, the pupil enlarged by the passion thick in the air. His shirt was half undone, showing a beautiful expanse of skin. He was staring at her, with a strange, tortured look. Automatically, he held her to him tightly, as she sat in his lap, straddling him. Her thighs clamped down on him, and he groaned in protest. 

"Tomoyo." He said again, his voice deeper than ever. She gave him a half questioning look. She did not think that she had ever seen anyone quite so beautiful as he; Adele, Syaoran, Sakura, they all had beauty, but his was to such a degree of exquisiteness that it caused so many to stare. 

She had barely had time to coherently think these thoughts before his expression changed again, her momentarily unanalytical mind did not register the tinge of fear, and guilt, and unsureness that was barely perceptible over the passion and masculine confidence. 

Tomoyo woke in late morning, as bright sun streamed arrow-straight from enormous french windows overlooking the east garden, and white-and-gold linens were draped in profusion over the bed, large enough to fit ten. There was the luxurious sensation of a sea of silks against her bare skin, and the scent of flowers and green things. Tall, airy arched ceilings gave a sensation of light, as golden ornaments added depth and richness to the room. Then she remembered her behavior of the previous night, and blushed crimson. That could hardly have been her! If it was enough to make her red as her mother's lipstick, well, that was saying something. 

How could she have lost all her inhibitions like that? Tomoyo sat for a moment, her solemn eyes at sad variance with her tumbled midnight locks, and long stretches of bare, ivory skin. Tomoyo lay back into the mountains of down pillows, a bit tumbled after the last night, and thought hard, occasionally cursing herself for being an idiot.

But where was Eriol? Suddenly she felt a bit shy, shy at the man who had touched her for the first time. Tomoyo scolded herself for her silliness, but the shyness did not fade. Why on earth was she shy about Eriol? She suddenly realized, with startling clarity, that Sakura had been blushing and shy, just like her, the day after her marriage.

Tomoyo's mouth dropped open. She exclaimed loudly the vilest expletive that she knew, and started to recount how she fell in love with the god-damned cocky Hiiragizawa Eriol.


	8. Primavera

Chapter 8

Primavera

Adéle watched Tomoyo, as usual, as if she were trying to see what Tomoyo was like from the sole act of watching her like a hawk. Eriol really wondered if they would get along; to this point, they had been acting beautifully. Adéle. Eriol knew by Clow's memory and duty that he had to protect her, and nurture her though she had no need for it. Inwardly, he winced at the horrible mess that he had created. He was still kicking himself for simply leaving Tomoyo, but she had said nothing about that incident after the Illuminati's evening reception, a half fete, a half concert at all. When he brought it up, Tomoyo merely made a graceful half-gesture with her hand, to dismiss it out of hand completely. 

He could never figure out if Adéle was in love with him or not. Sighing, he thought of all those long years in which she had waited, patiently and silently. Blinking, Eriol suddenly had a most vivid memory of Adéle and her pearls, once, when he was sixteen, speaking with him. It was already after he had broken up with Kaho. They two certainly hadn't lasted long. But this memory was so startling that every detail had been captured and held in his mind.

Eriol had just returned from a recent excursion to Amsterdam, Netherlands, and before that, Lisbon, Hungary, then before that, from Cologne, Germany. He was very tanned from Marseilles in the south of France when he had come to see Adéle. He had been only sixteen in that year, but of course, literal years meant little to him.

He remembered he had walked into the chateau unannounced and Madame Guillame, whom the servants that were only a year into their two years of service had called Madame la Guillotine. She had wrung her hands in distress that everything was not in impeccable order for the young Monsieur Eriol. She had snapped at the servants, and overreacted so badly that she had sent up an enormous cart, laden with silver dishes filled with delicate marzipan, liqueur truffles, lemon chiffon cake, petit fours, and all manner of sweets. Eriol merely laughed and told her that she had nothing to worry about.

For some reason, coming to this chateau always made him feel a bit excited, as if part of Clow's manner or habits had rubbed off on him. Eriol knew that since Clow had been excited, for a reason that Eriol himself did not remember, and now Clow had transferred that habit to him.

After the desserts, of which he took a paper thin slice of lemon chiffon cake out to the portico, he set his delicate Dresden-ware china cup, painted in delicate scrolls and swirls in gold and silver on a marble balustrade, he was thinking about why Clow had been excited to come here. He really did wonder. But it had been such a beautiful day that he looked to the gardens like Eden. No mere memory could capture such light and gold and sun in that day, one that kissed all that it touched and gilded it as if trying to cover it with gold. All manner of vegetation grew here, one that took a fortune to care for, but of course, he had that many times over. The flowers and leaves danced with the wind, then each other, then were righted again as the wind headed east and they were left to yearn evermore for the sun. He had been watching the birds swoop amongst themselves in that lifelong dance of life and momentum, when a cool breeze ruffled his hair and Adéle came to him, her little leather sandals clicking melodiously against luxurious Carrara marble and her beautiful dress the color of soap bubbles being ruffled in the wind like poetry.

It had been a pale cream dress, Eriol remembered, silk gossamer that whispered like the wind through trees. She had pearls laced through her hair that day, and yards of Chantilly lace, sewn with thousands of pearls. It was as she always was. The breeze had ruffled her ringlets, and made her eyes shimmer as the sun, or the ocean below the horizon does. Faint snatches of Bach's cello solos were carried from the columned veranda, and the sun made the red-glazed terrace sleepy with its drowsy intensity.

Adéle had given him a strange look and then seemed to steel herself. He had been quizzical. She sat in a low iron-wrought stool scattered with sumptuous silk-tasseled cushions in vibrant colors, and looked to the gardens, and the fountains who cast the water into their momentary glory, reaching for the sky, before they fell again, imprisoned from the brief freedom in the air. The thing about Adéle was her extraordinary stillness. She was almost like a French bisque bèbè doll. She was certainly as perfect as any of them might be.  Then her voice sounded, but it did not intrude as any other voice might have had; her voice seemed almost part of that sleepy, sunlit, timeless afternoon. Eriol vividly remembered the bright sky and how in turn bright the world was. And of how Adéle's voice seemed to be the very voice of that sunny, sleepy afternoon. Timeless.

"I want to tell you a bit of something about me, and about Clow Reed, if it would please you." Her polite voice was in impeccably pronounced French, an aristocratic dialect that was rarely heard these days. Eriol answered her in French just as beautiful.

"No, on the contrary Madame, if it would please you, then of course." Eriol used the somewhat redundant phrase that was little used nowadays, yet he managed to pull it off without sounding pompous. Adéle only watched him for a moment, and she almost would have been a sixteenth-century French noblewoman in that beautiful silk gossamer and her pearls. 

"Then I will narrate for you a story that is your own, though you will not remember it, I do not think." Eriol cocked an eyebrow. Adéle's elegant accent with its liquid dialect floated like the wind in the air, but disturbed nothing as the wind would have impertinently done.

"Will not remember, Adéle?" She nodded with a queenly gesture, and folded her little hands, sculpted by a master artisan, and began her story, as well as Clow Reed's.

"It was a long while ago, perhaps about the year 1859, and Clow had been young back then, young, yet still old, for those reasons which you must know. It was at a soirée held at the great Ludwig van Beethoven's, in Vienna, where all of the fashionable society were gathered. I of course, as his paramour, acted hostess. He was an absolutely singular, wildly fascinating man. But as I was young, I tired of him in my youthful vanity. Or perhaps we merely drifted apart, mon cher, as people are apt to do. I was quite so engaged in a petit tête-a-tête with the Baroness of Orczy, you know, the one who wrote the daring book called the Scarlet Pimpernel, yes?" 

At then she had paused when Eriol offered her a cup of tea, Earl Grey,  from the silver service that Madame Guillame had wheeled out. She took it with a graceful gesture, having done it every day at four o'clock for four hundred years, sipped elegantly, and continued.

"And then of course Clow Reed walked in. Everyone had quite so lost their minds after the young and dashing scholar from England. All the young ladies and filles were rather fascinated with him, that mysterious young man who could speak their tongue so well, even if he was British. They giggled quite madly, if you ask me, and he was so much the talk of everyone. So mysterious, he was. You have a question?" Eriol nodded.

"I thought you were born in 1647." Was all he said. Adéle nodded.

"Mon cher, you must remember that at the Illuminati I lived longer due to the gifts that they bestow. Do you not remember the Edicts?" Eriol nodded sourly. No wonder so many stupid immortals graced their ranks. They weren't even really immortal, chartered to live for only 200 years or so. A sub-par, mediocre breed, in Eriol's opinion.

"As I was saying, mon cher, he knew at first glance that I was a pseudo-immortal as he was, and we were quite soon quite in a conversation. Cher Ludwig was quite displeased with that, if I may tell you. And all the rest was history."  Eriol found himself gaping as Adéle commented randomly on the superlative petit fours. The small cakes were delicately covered with an excellent raspberry icing and white chocolate shavings. 

"Chèrie Adéle, do you mean to say that you were in love with Clow?" Eriol was aghast. How was it that he never remembered Clow being in love? How did he get randomly left out of such a delicious tidbit?

Adéle wrinkled her little nose disdainfully at the marzipan, then carefully selected a crème de menthe éclair with airy layers of crèpe. Eriol somehow refrained from asking if there was anything else about Clow's love life that he had been left out of. Adéle seemed to think that it was a trivial detail, as she was so immersed in her study of the desserts, each arranged beautifully on the center of large plates, yet the amount of food on that plate was tiny.

"Oh cher Eriol, must you be so un-egalitarian? He was also in love with me. There's no need for such belligerence. You have always known that male hubris has annoyed me." Adéle was looked at the damned cart again. She had polished off that morsel of crème de menthe éclair in a flash. Eriol felt his face go a bit purple. Good God, what else did Clow leave out of his memories? For all he knew, Clow could have been plotting to reincarnate himself another bloody time! 

"Adéle, would you stop thinking about food for one moment and continue your story, please?" Eriol asked, exasperated. Adéle pointedly turned back to that stupid cart and took her time with the desserts. She was now considering the crèpe suzette. Shaking her head after she dipped a finger in her mouth laden with the clotted cream and blueberries, she was now regarding the tiramisu, soaked in cappuccino, the finest from Milan. Then she finally chose the coffee ice cream with tiramisu. Eriol was practically jumping with anticipation with the continuation with her story. 

Carefully setting the silver tongs with which she had put the tiramisu and ball of ice cream onto a large plate to the saucer, Adéle ensconced herself back onto her stool and arranged a few cushions. Eriol felt his blood pressure go up another few points. Finally, she opened her mouth and continued with her story, in her unchanging French.

"In time, mon cher Ludwig passed away, and I was left to do what I pleased. Clow and I… we had a relationship. In this chateau is where we would rendezvous, and I think you still are excited to come here, because Clow was." Adéle's expression turned bitter. 

"But then the Illuminati feared that Clow was getting too powerful, and revoked their immortality Edict from him and he knew that his time grew short. But at that time, our relationship had been deteriorating and I knew that it was because of his impending death, because of how so very much he was obsessed with it. Did I tell you he knew the exact moment of death? When, where, how? But he was so much more powerful than anyone had realized, if you will remember. He did not fear the end of life because he knew that it would come to him again, and to ensure that he would never be burdened with such power he chose a heir and to divide his soul, like two channels, into two souls."

Adéle's soft voice was laced with bitterness and regret. A momentary breeze ruffled long, shimmering black locks and cast a sheen to the pearls. She looked out to the gardens. Then she began to speak again. 

"And I knew that he was so apart from me, that I was loosing him as irrevocably as mortals age, and die. I wouldn't have it. I knew that he still loved me, and so I decided that I would share that next life with him." 

Eriol stared at her. Adéle's face was resigned, even gentle, as she continued her narrative.

"So decided that I would grant myself immortality, without edict, so that I might meet Clow again when he was reincarnated. I did not have the power to reincarnate myself, but I did have the power of granting myself immortality, forever. But it had never been tried, and of course I did not consult with Clow, and did not know the penalty of immortality. But as you can see from my present image, this is the price that I paid."

Adéle seemed as if she were only a spectator of her very own life, a life that had lasted so long, all for Clow, that it did not even seem to be her life any longer. It was great irony that such age would carry the mien of a child, the most enchanting, mesmerizing  child in the world. There was the most peculiar expression on her face, one such expression that humankind has not yet assigned to an emotion nor name, that particular state of releasing regret and only remembering with a sort of defeated humor, yet a quiet and elegant acceptance. 

Eriol walked out of the car and gently lifted Adéle out of it. The Louvre was so magnificent as to be horribly intimidating, yet it was a favorite of Adéle's and he took her there often. The curator himself was waiting for the "Monsieur Hiiragizawa and his darling Adéle" to come, and perhaps donate another extravagant sum for the Greek or Byzantine exhibit, perhaps. The curator had never learned what sort of relation Adéle was to Eriol, yet this one had not asked. Eriol frowned. He would have to erase the memory of this curator, too, after a while.  

Monsieur Montesquieu, with hair the color of fine oak and dignified streaks of gray, wore an impeccable black three-piece suit and Italian tie. He very much had an air of scholarly dignity and exuded the knowledge of art. His refined French was a relief after hearing so many foreigners abuse it. They were ushered into a plush, luxurious room done in the Louis the Sixteenth style, and he politely informed them of the itinerary that he had prepared, and if they wanted any changes? 

Tomoyo did not look impressed. The imposing articles and orifices and buttresses with their elaborate classical, baroque and Art Noveau Roccoco décor was rather dull after a while, Eriol had to agree. Monsieur Montesquieu[no relation to the better known Montesquieu], the curator, was delighted at Tomoyo, whom he called "a veritable objet d'art whom by right and grace belonged as queen goddess of the greek exhibit". And no, she was not Madame Hiiragizawa, as so many people assumed, only a close friend. Quelle domage, the curator said with a shrug, for such a belle fille was there only one in this world. Tomoyo laughed gracefully at flattery, and Monsieur Montesquieu ushered them in, ahead of lines, tickets, and even the red velvet ropes that kept the rest of the populace from breathing too closely to the art. Throngs of people, native French and tourists glared at them after they had superceded another line, yet many recognized the curator and only gave speculative glances at who had so much power as to command the attention of the curator himself.

Monsieur Montesquieu was especially gracious towards Adéle, the "brilliant jolie petite fille of art" and was such a charming girl, too. Adéle executed her curtsy, and the ever kind Monsieur Montesquieu, who repeated that he doted on Adéle, had a chocolate cheesecake brought into the museum where no food was allowed, because she was such a darling. Eriol only watched as Tomoyo smiled with a fond, motherly indulgence, proud that her Adéle commanded so much power with the grown people of the world. Perhaps they would not end up trying to destroy each other, Eriol reasoned. But females were unpredictable and sometimes made him slightly nervous. They made him twitch when they had that "don't be silly" or that "I am female and you are male, therefore you are wrong" looks. He couldn't figure them out for the life of him and remembered Clow giving up a while ago, while trying to desperately apologize to a stout matron about a comment made on her dress that she was not supposed to hear. It wasn't even Clow who said it, anyway. Women. Huh.

He and Tomoyo trailed a bit after the curator and Adéle, with the curator ordering museum guards to clear out people and red ropes in the gallery which they happened upon, one of quite excellent Monet and Renoir, and a bit of Manet. The curator spoke ceaselessly of this piece of art or another, with Adéle contributing her random little comments, which the curator beamed at and would often reply, what a brilliant little darling. Tomoyo would often give that little smile of hers, which Eriol had become uncomfortably fond of, and murmur that of course the curator was correct, and give some comments on the art herself. The curator pounced on Tomoyo, albeit in a dignified manner, and they two were in a discussion about the merits of Manet over Monet. Adéle looked contentedly at them. Then she turned to Eriol with her appealing, innocent eyes that she so used to get her way, and said,

"Hold me, Eriol." Eriol smiled fondly at her, she was quite amazing, and carried her to the next painting.

Adéle turned to regard him seriously. She was watching him as intently as she had watched Tomoyo, and seemed to reach a conclusion about something. Then she spoke.

"Eriol, I have been thinking." She said in her little voice, the one she used around others who did not know her age. Eriol looked at her inquiringly.

"What is it, chèrie Adéle?" He asked. Adéle pursed her rosebud lips, and watched him carefully.

"I have been thinking that I have lived for too long, Eriol." She rushed on before he could open his mouth.

"I want to remove my memory, and live out my life at normal pace as a normal girl. That's what I want, and that's what I want you to help me with." Eriol gave her a hard look.

"Why now, Adéle?" 

"I had always wanted a normal family, and now that chèrie Tomoyo has come, I wanted her to act my mother, and you my father. This idea did not just occur to me, Eriol. Sometime during 1934, I believe, I tired of this. But then when you were reborn, I thought I had hope, but…"  

Adéle trailed off with an expressive shrug. She waved a little hand in a gesture, as if saying that the rest was self-explanatory. Eriol studied her. 

"So you are saying that when I was reborn you thought that you loved me but I was a poor replacement for Clow Reed?" Eriol asked bluntly. Adéle gave him a withering look. 

"Belligerence, Eriol, belligerence. You and Clow as well, have managed as much of it as kings with armies at their backs. Really, Eriol."

"Are you saying that you don't love me at all?" Adéle gave a frustrated sigh. 

"No, I didn't say that, it was just that I realized that you had loved me, you, not Clow, but it could never work. That is all that I am saying, Eriol." Eriol was about to protest, but Adéle shushed him with a little finger to his lips.

"Our love is ill-fated. Have you not learned over all of these years? We cannot hope to have a relationship in this straited manner, and it will not work by nature or by ourselves. Please Eriol, you must remember this."

Eriol felt the downward spiral that he was so accustomed to, when Kaho too, had broken it up with him.

"Eriol, please, did you think that this would work? It could never have been. So I am giving you something better than myself; I am giving you Tomoyo. Do not bother to deny that your feelings have grown for her, and her likewise. All you two need is a little push, and that is all. I relinquish you to her now, and bless you both. There is no need to make a scene."

Eriol heard himself give a strangled grunt. Pass him over like a discarded dress, or a package? Women! You could never tell up from down with them at all. So he might as well surrender himself to their insanity.

He shrugged expressively. Adéle gave him a look that might have nailed another man to the wall.

"Eriol." She said warningly. "You know that I loved Clow, and you are not Clow. Perhaps you are half his reincarnation, but you are not him. That is all. We have both been foolish to not realize that. I do this for your sake, as well as my own."

Eriol suddenly felt idiotic again. Of course he shouldn't expect her to love him; he was hardly the same as Clow. He had been overreacting, but not to the degree that she described. Make a scene, indeed!

"I think that you are correct, darling. How would you like to see the Renaissance exhibit?" Adéle nodded mildly, still with that look in her eyes that said she was watching him carefully to see if he would act irrational. _Irrational_. She still held her firm belief that men were always predisposed to being irrational. Women.

When he reached the Renaissance exhibit, he felt a degree of familiarity come over him. He adored the Renaissance, when the human intellect truly blossomed. And so many beautiful things had come of it. Gozzoli's _The Procession of the Magi_, Botticelli's _Birth of Venus_, and the epitome of the Renaissance, da Vinci's _Mona Lisa_. And the more beautiful works, _La Pieta_ by Michelangelo_, Primavera _by Botticelli_, the Virgin _by da Vinci, so many beautiful triumphs of human intellect.

He thought that Tomoyo appropriately belonged in the Renaissance exhibit. Her picturesque and perfect form and face could have been the crowning achievement of Michelangelo, had he sculpted her, and her hands were the very hands of da Vinci. He could always tell that a painting was by da Vinci, by those remarkable hands, and the perfect mouth. 

"Tomoyo, may I speak with you?" Eriol didn't know what had come over him, only that nothing could ever convince him to change his mind. Tomoyo did not blink at him calling her by her first name, even without the –san honorific at the end, but smiled to encourage Adéle to keep the curator company. She fell in line with him, they two trailing Adéle and the curator. Tomoyo gave a questioning look.

"Yes, Eriol?" So she was done with formalities, too. 

"About last night…" he trailed off with a significant look. "I thought that we should discuss it now." 

Tomoyo gave a look of annoyance, not even marring her crystalline beauty.

"Why should we do that, Eriol?" she asked mildly, her voice reverberating through marble halls, more beautiful than the delicate music of a Virginal, or even the violin of Bach. The voice of spring indeed, as the curator had proclaimed. Her large, brilliantly violet eyes settled on him, so very expressive. He for an instant wondered if he had lost his wits completely, before discarding the thought in favor of watching Tomoyo.

She was wearing a delightfully fresh little dress of a very pale lavender silk taffeta, one whose harmonious and classic lines somehow suggested the diaphanous robes of a Greek statue, as well as the statuesque beauty of perhaps a Napoleonic styled woman. The neckline was rather low, by her standards, and at this time Eriol cursed himself for knowing her standards, but did not show even a hint of cleavage, yet prominently displayed her back. It was cut just below the knees, with a slit in the back, and a stunning strand of black pearls encircled her slender swan's neck closely brought forth her unusually long neck, rising gracefully from sloping shoulders. 

For the first time, Eriol realized that her effortless grace and poise, not only her beauty, caused so many to stare. There were women who were naturally beautiful, but lacked that graciousness and classic poise to accentuate that beauty, and thus the beauty was lost.

"It was really Adéle's idea, Tomoyo, but I thought that she was very clever in seeing it before either of us."

Tomoyo nodded, to prompt him into continuing as he cut off to stare at a portrait of Napoleon.

"Adéle has told me that she has tired of her immortality, and wishes to be erased of her memories, and live out her life as a normal child, in the place that she has always loved. And she has chosen a mother and a father who would understand her wishes.

Tomoyo gave him a questioning look, but he saw the confirmation in her eyes before he spoke.

"She has chosen us. And she told me that we both love each other, so there is no conflict."

"Would you marry me?" he asked softly. Large, expressive violet eyes glowed, but she turned to look at yet another painting.

"Why do you ask now, Eriol?" Her voice was hushed, quiet, but intimate. Eriol had a sudden, overpowering urge to run his fingers over that unusually tall neck, to pull the black pearls out of smoky black hair and feel the silky length through his fingers.

Eriol saw no reason to mince his words now, nor make flowery speeches about love.

"I was foolish, and I didn't realize that I loved you until I left you this morning. I was confused." Tomoyo nodded slightly. She spoke, in her still, soft voice.

"You know, I was once very small when my mother took me to a great, large park somewhere. It was such a windy day, but I laughed at the wind. Then I saw a little bird, that my mother later told me was a swallow. It was trying to fly against the wind, north, yet the wind kept on tumbling it back. Finally, it lost its strength and was blown back."

Her voice seemed to belong to the quiet, sun streaked hall, mellow and dignified in its years.

"For a long time afterwards, I had always thought that I was the swallow who wished to fly against the wind, but now I find that the wind is blowing north, like me. And now fate, the wind, has finally sent me to my journey's end."

Tomoyo turned from a Vermeer, strange geometrical shapes and wild lines.

"Hiiragizawa Eriol, I would be honored to be your wife, for now and forever." Her voice was warm, her expression radiant. It was as if some unknown light had suddenly illuminated her face intensely, but with a soft brilliance. 

Up ahead, Adéle spoke with Monsieur the curator about the merits of Bramante and Raphael. _Primavera _had always been her favorite. And yet, there were others who rivaled it for beauty. Gracious women in flowing robes yet flew in the sky, or ran over wide, undulating plains, and statues yet kept their graceful forms, untouched still by time. The inviolable air held by great art was held still, housed in a magnificent palace meant for kings, ordained by God himself. Golden sun streamed onto works that were formed over years, the child, wife, and mother of their creators. Their footsteps echoed gently through walls of marble and glass, and for the last time, Adéle could look upon the paintings of Botticelli, and remember them being painted.


End file.
